


A Ninja Promise

by staringatstars



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3762520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mikey finds out his brothers have had their mutagen stolen by the Shredder, he sets out to find the mutagen, save Master Splinter, and finally prove to himself and his brothers that he's not just a screw-up. He's a ninja, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The best part about being the youngest sibling was not having to come up with a plan. Where Leo had to stress about strategy and Donny had to stay up night after night working on gadgets - which was totally fine because that was how he preferred to spend his nights, anyway – Mikey could just relax. He didn't train all the time because Leo did, and because Leo did, he didn't have to. He could focus on comic books and TV shows and pizza. His three favorite things in the world.

Likewise, Raph could focus on his motorcycle, his one true love.

That's the way things were. Leo was the leader, Raph was the fighter, Donnie was the smart one, and Mikey was the goofball. They all filled their roles and it worked.

But as Mikey stared down in shock at the three little turtles waddling around his legs, he couldn't help but realize that the roles had changed.

"Hey guys," Mikey said, his trembling voice barely recognizable to his own ears as he began to gather his brothers in his arms, careful to keep their masks from slipping off their shells as he did so, "I got ya."

One of the turtles, Mikey guessed it was Raph based off the red fabric flapping loosely around its middle, barked softly up at him. And maybe Mikey's mind was playing tricks on him, but he thought he heard Raph's familiar mixture of indignation and concern in the tone. It was then that the youngest turtle realized he was shaking. "Come on, Mikey." He muttered to himself. "Focus. Take deep breaths."

If he were Leo, he wouldn't be shaking. If he were Leo, he'd have a plan. If he were Leo… there was no way Leo would have let this happen.

Somehow, while Mikey was out skateboarding the sewer pipers, the Foot Clan had taken his family and stolen their mutagen. Master Splinter had originally been human, so that meant stealing his mutagen wouldn't render him defenseless the way it did his brothers. That also meant he was probably locked up somewhere.

Best case scenario, he stormed Shredder's base, freed Master Splinter, found three vials of mutagen all neatly labeled with his brother's names written in magic marker, and then turned them back to normal.

Worst case scenario, he stormed the Foot Clan's base, got his shell handed to him, and his brothers got stuck living in a fish bowl.

Sighing heavily, Mikey finally climbed to his feet. "First, I have to get you three home, then I'll find a way to fix this."

It was already sunset by the time Mikey started jumping the rooftops with the three turtles squirming and chirping in his arms. Every couple minutes, he tried to say something soothing like, "Don't worry, bros. I know it's scary but I won't let you fall." Or "I'll get you back to normal soon." One time, after Donnie'd made a particularly alarmed chirp, Mikey had looked down at the turtles in his arms and growled, "Shredhead's dead." That had a not so soothing effect. Leo's eyes widened slightly at either his tone, his expression, or his words. Mikey wasn't sure how much of the brother he knew was actually in there so he couldn't be sure. Then he felt a slight pressure on his thumb. For some reason, the little Raph turtle was clamping onto his thumb, biting him.

It barely even hurt.

Mikey stopped one rooftop away from their manhole, glanced down at the angry turtle biting his thumb, and asked, "What is it, Raph?" He hadn't been expecting a response and he didn't really get one. Not one he could understand, at least. Leo chirped something at Raph, managing to somehow sound exasperated, Raph bit harder, and Donnie made a gurgling noise in his throat, his head swiveling anxiously between Mikey and Raph. As ironic as it was, Mikey couldn't speak turtle, and he made sure to mention this. After he did, he was about 90% certain he saw the Raph turtle roll his eyes.

 _Are they mad at me,_ Mikey wondered. _Because I wasn't there? Because I let this happen?_

He forced a smile. "Look, guys, whatever you want to tell me can wait until you're back to normal, 'kay?" Then he pulled them all closer to his chest and leapt from the building. The shock from hitting the ground without breaking his fall with a roll or lessening the impact by kicking off the walls hurt thrummed through his legs as he tried to figure out how to open the manhole without losing his brothers. Finally, after a few failed attempts of trying to remove the cover with his toes, he decided he had to chance putting his brothers down.

"Don't go anywhere, okay?" He asked them, desperation bleeding into his tone despite his best efforts to keep his cool as he set them down. To his delight, none of them moved an inch as he pried open the manhole. Laughing, he managed, "You can understand me, can't you?"

The question was greeted by a series of satisfied clucks and another eye roll. It seemed like the answer was an emphatic yes. Mikey scooped them into his arms, laughing slightly when Leo nuzzled his neck, and leapt into the sewers.

 

As he'd expected, the lair was trashed. Claw marks ran through the upended dinner table and nearly cut the couch in half. Dismayed by the scene, Mikey muttered, "Man, Ol' Shred-head really did a number on this place." They were going to have to move. When he felt his brothers start to struggle, he carefully set them down, letting them take in the damage.

Donnie's workshop looked like it lost a fight with a wrecking ball. His precious computer was bashed to the point of resembling a crushed soda can. Mikey had to actually herd him away from that area because of all the broken glass and circuitry on the floor. Leo stared as solemnly as he could manage at the dojo. The tatami mats had been stacked in a pile and burned, the equipment broken, and all the rice paper had been systematically punctured. Hearing Raph growl made Mikey realize just what the purpose of the destruction was.

It was to kill their morale.

"Bros," Mikey started, forcing his voice to sound cheery and upbeat, "we're gonna get through this. We always do. We've gotten through worse." He smiled at Leo, who'd huff softly, and shrugged, "Sorry, you can't give the rousing speech, Leo. I'm sure you'd do a better job."

Then he moved towards the door to leave, hand already half-raised in a jaunty wave, in the hopes that if he got out fast enough he wouldn't break down or ask for help because that would just make them feel horrible and everything was already bad enough without him making it worse.

His fingers had only brushed the control panel when he felt three pairs of stubby claws pawing at his legs. "Guys," Mikey choked out, quickly losing his composure, "I have to go." Thinking quickly, he pulled out his T-Phone and dialed April's number. The dial tone rang for an excruciating three seconds before he heard a click, then April's voice flowed from the speaker.

"Mikey," She grumbled, groggy. "Do you have any idea what time it is? This had better be good."

"April! My brothers have been turned into tiny turtles and Master Splinter's been kidnapped and I need you to get over here and watch them for me while I go to get their mutagen back and free Master Splinter. Please April!" By the end, he was gasping, having explained everything in a panic induced rush. Before April could even respond beyond a "MIKEY WHAT-" he'd hung up.

Forcing a smile, he looked down at his brothers, some of them still managing to look mildly disapproving, and said, "Don't worry. April's on her way. She won't let anything bad happen to you while I'm gone." This was met by another chorus of increasingly panicked unintelligible protests. Instead of responding, Mikey tried to make calming humming noises as he tightened the bandannas around their waists so April could tell which of his brothers were which. Or maybe he did it because, despite having tried to rush out the door a few seconds ago, he honestly didn't want to leave. He didn't know if he could do it without Leo telling him what to do or Raph keeping him out of trouble.

But hadn't he always wanted to prove himself?

And this was his chance. His chance to show his brothers that he wasn't just a screw-up, that he was an amazing ninja too. Not some lamebrain that needed to be rescued all the time.

Satisfied with his work, he stood up, watched them fuss a bit with the fabric, and chuckled. "You know, you guys are actually pretty cute like this." The three small turtles all gave him a flat look. Unfortunately, full-out glares are a little hard to pull off when you're barely six inches long. Mikey shrugged. "Hey, don't get mad. I'm just telling it like it is." He shook his head, a smile still tugging at his lips, and said, "Alright, it's time to save you guys, What's the plan, Leo?"

When no one answered, he realized his mistake, and the smile abruptly vanished. Scratching the back of his neck, he added, "I mean, that's what I would say, normally. But today it's 'What's the plan, Mikey?' right? So, uh, what's the plan, Mikey?"

The attempt to cheer his brothers up actually seemed to make them more depressed. It wasn't doing wonders for his mood either, as he was suddenly forced to realize that he had no plan.

That had never stopped his brothers before, though.

He scooped up his brothers, kissed them all on their foreheads, and then laid them all on the couch so they couldn't catch him in time to stop him from leaving the lair. The door swung open with a rush and the smell of rain. Mikey stood in there for a moment, watching his brothers struggle to leap off the couch. Then he swallowed the urge to sniffle and forced as much confidence into his voice as he could. "I swear I'm gonna save you guys. It's a ninja promise. Just hang tight and wait for me."

Long after he'd left, the three turtles continued to paw anxiously at the closed door. April arrived fifteen minutes later to find the trio trying to push a chair against the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Without anyone around to watch his back in case his goofing around drew attention, Mikey made sure to keep to rooftops and shadows as he flitted towards the Foot Clan's lair. Well, 'lair' may not have been the best word. Maybe fortress? Tower? In any case, it was an annoyingly large building that was basically smack dab in the middle of New York City. Talk about hiding in plain sight.

It felt weird to be moving quietly, Mikey noted as he leapt over a trash can, the urge to sing and shout present but thoroughly ignored. Usually, Leo would have shushed him by now, or Raph would have smacked him upside the head. It wasn't so much that he missed being shushed or smacked, it was just that he was used to it. So used to it, he was almost tempted to smack himself upside the head when he finally found himself staring straight at the Foot Clan's lair with his plan still not expanded past "Go In And Save The Day." That was not a plan. That was an operation name. A _bad_ operation name.

A slight frown tugging on his face, Mikey sat himself down on the nearest rooftop, glared at the glass walls of the Shredder's tower, and wondered what Leo would say if he were around and capable of speech. "Mikey," Michelangelo tried to pitch his voice so it sounded similar to his oldest brother, "We need you to be a distraction while Donnie, Raph, and I go in, save Master Splinter, and take all the credit. Okay? Break." Well… that obviously wasn't bitter at all.

"Come on, Mikester" He slapped his cheeks, trying to get his head on straight, "Your brothers need you to think." Ice Cream Kitty popped into his head. "Not now, Kitty!"

Even with the glass, he could still enter through a window. A low one, since chances were good he'd be spotted if he tried to climb the building in an attempt to get in through the ceiling. After that, he'd need to find a way to listen. Someone had to be talking about Master Splinter or the mutagen, bragging or gloating or something. Okay. He'd hide in the ceiling. That always worked in the movies.

As luck would have it, it was a foggy morning, the clouds on the ground and the clouds in the sky giving the city a fuzzy, dreamlike quality to it. For a few more minutes, Mikey sat on the roof, breathing in and out, clearing his mind, just like Splinter taught him. When his eyes finally snapped open, all traces of blue were gone, replaced by white so intense it glowed in the fog. Silent as a Coral snake, he climbed down the fire escape, then darted from shadow to shadow, keeping his mouth firmly shut until he reached the bottom most window. Grass obscured half of it, suggesting that it went either a basement or the Shredder's lair had a subterranean underbelly. Which would mean it was even bigger than it looked and now he had even more places to search. Ugh.

"Well, this just keeps getting better," Mikey muttered, picking up a decent sized rock. Grinning widely, he slammed the rock through the glass, careful to keep his body out of sight. A yell followed by the sound of running feet proceeded the crash, and as the entire room rushed to find the source of the noise, Mikey slipped to the opposite side of the building, pried a window open, and slid inside. Far as he could tell, the entire room was staring at the shattered glass like whoever threw the rock would just pop up and say, "Yes, I am the prankster you're looking for. Your clueless staring compelled me to turn myself in."

Wow. It was a really good thing that Shredder recruited his Foot ninja from gangs and disgruntled teenagers. His ninja were dumb.

Suppressing a giggle, the turtle climbed atop one of the many bookcases in the room and used the added height to remove one of the panels from the ceiling so he could slip into the air duct. The scuffing drew attention from one of the ninjas, but by the time he turned around, Mikey was already sliding the panel back into place.

"Ugh. Yuck. Gross" Mikey swatted at his head, spitting and sputtering as he tried to get the cobwebs off. They clung to the fabric of his bandanna as he pulled them away, and he noticed, to his dismay, that the entire air duct with filled with cobwebs, some of which were occupied. "Come out to the coast," he hissed to himself, the scrape of his shell against the ventilation duct's setting his nerves on edge. "We'll get together, have a few laughs…" One of his hands touched something dry and… crunchy? Glancing down, he noticed the cockroach corpse by his finger, then quickly clapped his other hand against his mouth to smother a whimper. Just because Raph was the one who'd jump ten feet if he so much as heard the word cockroach didn't mean Mikey was thrilled about being trapped in a small space with them. Still, there wasn't any other plan to work with, so he pressed his mouth into a firm line and focused on crawling. Every few minutes, he would stop, listening for any mentions of a rat, mutagen, or turtles.

The worst part was when he had to move from one floor to the next. It wasn't so much the enclosed space that got to him in the ventilation shaft as it was gravity. "I swear," he grunted, his feet searching frantically for purchase of some sort while his right hand pressed so hard into the small space between metallic sheets that Mikey could actually feel the metal biting into his scaly skin; his right hand gripped the wooden handle of his kusarigama for deal life. Plunging the blade in metal made a lot of noise, as did the screaming sound the metal made as his weight pulled the blade down. "If I get through this, I'll go on a diet. I'll eat seaweed. I'll train everyday. I'll even meditate with Leo." His feet found a dent. "Ha!" He pulled himself into the second floor's air ducts, his heart hammering in his chest. " I was totally kidding about that diet thing." Beneath him, the duct began to buckle, unable to bear his added mass. The turtle quickly pulled his body away from the weak spot. Under his breath, he muttered, "I don't know who's listening but I was just kidding about the kidding thing. Please don't let me fall."

Because the duct wasn't made for turtle travel, Mikey didn't have any time to rest. His muscles were constantly straining to either drag his body forward or lift it from one level to the next. By the time he got to the fifteenth floor, he was cursing anytime he'd slacked off ever. What if that one lap he didn't run was the difference between saving his brothers or being hacked to pieces by the Foot Clan? What if one of the lessons he didn't pay attention to could have seriously helped him? He'd never had to pay attention, though. Because Leo did and Leo usually ended up parroting Master Splinter's lessons while they were out on patrol, anyway. Why should he even bother to learn the lessons when his older brother loved repeating them so much?

At least, he used to. Sometimes, there was a flash of emotion on his face that Mikey didn't remember seeing before they faced the Shredder. Before Leo had his leg broken. It didn't appear often, and it was always really fleeting, but every now and then, Mikey would catch their leader looking at him or Raph goofing off and thought that maybe his brother looked a little… jealous? Lonely?

But Leo had wanted to be the leader. And he always made it look so cool! Why would he choose to lead if it didn't make him happy?

_Because he's the only one who can, right? Even if he wanted to quit and just be plain ol' Leo again, there's no way Raph or Donnie could replace him. Raph's too much of a bonehead and Donnie's too much of an egghead. And I'm…_

What was he? Why couldn't he be the leader? Because his brothers never listened to him? Because he liked to ride his skateboard and play video games more than he liked to meditate or practice kata?

Well, technically, he was the leader now. And all it had taken for that to happen was his brothers being de-mutated and Master Splinter being taken captive.

"Way to go, me." He muttered as tried to wriggle some of the dust off his shell. "I sure showed them." Maybe being in a small, dark, enclosed area was starting to get to him because his mood had definitely taken a turn for the worst.

Just as he was beginning to wonder, with increasing dread, if he'd have to climb to yet another level, his inner ears picked up on a very familiar vibration in the air. While one of the disadvantages to being a turtle was not always being able hear as far or as clearly as, say, April or Casey could, he could almost always feel it whatever it was they were hearing.

"…rat…water… alive…" Gritting his teeth, the young turtle crawled closer to a vent he could see about three feet in front of him. This was the first lead he'd had in over an hour- he didn't want to miss it. He peered through the gap between the shutters, saw two Foot ninja standing in a sterile looking hallway, and let his shoulders slump. No sign of sensei. "I just don't see why Master Shredder doesn't kill him." The Foot ninja continued, one of his hands gripping the handle of a jug of water. "The turtles are gone. How much more can he actually suffer?"

"Don't tell me you're actually getting a soft spot for the rat? Not after what he did to Karai." Hearing that, Mikey almost blew his cover. It would have been so satisfying to jump down there and tell them just who it was that was really responsible for Karai turning into a snake lady but – and he really hated to admit this – he just couldn't risk bringing the entire Foot Clan down on his head. Not when he knew no one would come to save him if he did. And if something happened to him, what would happen to his brothers?

The first Foot ninja hummed thoughtfully. "That's the thing, though. I heard Karai was going to defect to the turtle's side before that happened. Why would the rat mutate her into a snake – pretty much a rat's natural enemy - if she was thinking of joining his side? Did anyone actually see him do it? Something smells fishy and I don't think it's Xever." There was a heavy silence between them, making Mikey grind his teeth with worry over the really dumb ninja who'd pretty much just called the Shredder a liar in the middle of his fortress. Why would you do that? If you have doubts, do it outside. And preferably far away from people with weapons.

Exactly as he'd feared, the silence was cut by the sound of a blade being drawn, a heavy slosh of water, and the smack of a back being slammed against the wall. Mikey choked back a scream, his creative mind supplying countless gruesome possibilities for what was going on below him. Just as he was about to pry open the vent, because enemy or not he wasn't going to let anyone die on his watch, he heard, "I'm only going to tell you this once and only because we've known each other for a long time: Don't question Master Shredder."

"Or what?" The nicer ninja, as dubbed by the turtle hiding in the ventilation system, spat in his attacker's face. "You'll kill me?"

"Yeah. Probably. I wouldn't really have a choice." Mikey frowned. How could anyone not have a choice when it came to killing their fellow ninja? "And considering what Master Shredder would do to you if he heard you-"

"If I heard _what?_ " Mike squeaked, flinching back so hard his head grazed the low ceiling of the air duct. Through the spaces between the shutters, the top of a horned helmet could be made out. Oroku Saki towered over the other two ninja, who broke away from the wall so they could properly bow to him. They waited, silent as their master scanned the ceiling, his eyes narrowed. After the longest few minutes of Mikey's life, he turned his attention away from the ceiling, faced his ninja, and said in a frighteningly calm tone of voice, "Well, my ninja, what is it you seem to be hiding from me?"

"Nothing, my lord," replied the ninja who had only moments before had his weapon drawn and pressed to his comrade's throat. There was only the slightest hesitation, the smallest hitch to his voice. Usually, it would have gone unnoticed, but Mikey could practically feel the Shredder's eyes narrow, his suspicion grow.

"My trust is hard won and easily lost. Perhaps it's time you learned why I am not to be trifled with."

The Shredder growled as he made to grab the ninja by the throat. And Mikey knew how little a chance he stood against him, knew how important it was that he find the mutagen and Master Splinter, knew that leaping down to save two Foot nin likely wasn't going to when him any allies, he knew all that – but he still couldn't just stand by and let the Shredder tear them apart. Besides, it wasn't like he had to win, right? He just had to let the Shredder see him, take his mind off of his two underlings, and then disappear again. No biggy.

He was gripping the vent tight, ready to rip it off so he could make his grand entrance, when he heard the ninja with Splinter's water say, "I relieved myself, my lord." The young turtle froze, caught between fear, disbelief, and a very strong urge to smack his forehead. "Lee was merely warning me not to behave in such a lax manner while in your presence or, uh, within two hundred yards of you. Basically, this entire building is a gas free zone." He cut himself off, realizing he was beginning to babble. Lee, or the grumpy ninja, as also dubbed by Mikey, stared at him in openmouthed horror.

Two humans and one mutant waited, terrified, for the Shredder's reaction to this admission. For a moment, it seemed the power-tripping egomaniac was actually going to back off. The two Foot nin relaxed, their breaths issuing out in a relieved sigh, then silver flashed through the air. Splinter's jug fell to the ground in three perfect slices. Mikey watched, the desire to jump down to help so strong he shook with it, as the ninja swayed, pressing a hand to his seeping wounds in shock, stumbled, and, eventually, fell to his knees. The other ninja hurried to kneel by his side, turning his back on his master. Luckily, the Shredder was no longer interested in him.

"Let those scars remind you," The Shredder sneered as he walked away, "of the importance of self-discipline and respect. The next time you speak of anything so crass in front of me, I won't be so merciful."

As the Shredder rounded the corner, he stopped, still, like he was listening for something. Whatever it was he was listening for, he must not have heard it, because he soon kept on moving. Meanwhile, Lee worked to stem the blood, ripping the mask from his head and his companion's so he had something to press against the wound.

"That… could have gone better." The ninja bleeding on the floor noted, sounding pained and slightly breathless despite his attempt to keep his tone casual.

"You're an idiot, you know that? He could have killed you." And if the three jagged lacerations on his chest had gone only a few inches deeper, he would have. It was weird hearing how concerned the grumpy ninja sounded, though, when he'd been threatening to kill his friend for voicing his suspicions about the Shredder only a moment before. Maybe it was only okay if his friend died at his hand? A pang went through Mikey's chest as he remembered just how much Leo loved that sort of thing. If Leo were there with him, he'd probably say something like, 'These men are true ninja.' Whatever that meant. Sometimes, Mikey wondered if even Leo didn't always understand the things he said.

The nicer ninja shrugged, moved to brush dark bangs away from his eyes, then grimaced when he accidentally shifted the torn skin on his chest. "He tried to grab your throat. I got worried. I made something up."

"Next time, make up something better."

"Right. Because 'Nothing, my lord' was just a certifiable work of genius. Remind me never to steal cookies with you." Mikey grinned, both at the familiar sounding banter and the fact that the injured ninja's blood loss was already beginning to ebb. The nicer ninja was going to be just fine. He'd be even better if he stopped working for the Foot Clan, though. Mikey's smile wavered when he cast a glance over at the broken jug, the realization he'd lost the only lead to Master Splinter he'd had when the Shredder decided to be a jerk to kitchenware throwing a dark cloud over his relief.

Sputtering in disbelief, the grumpy ninja gave up on a proper retort in favor of rolling his eyes. As he did so, he accidentally caught sight of a flash of orange and green.

 _Um,_ Mikey thought when he noticed the grumpy one staring up at him, _this probably isn't good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, I'm not a huge fan of toilet humor, so I tried to think of what else the ninja could say (his name is actually Miles) and came up blank. Then I decided, 'Well, it's not like toilet humor isn't in the show' Plus, the Shredder doesn't like rude humor either, and that kind of made me feel better about it.
> 
> (This next bit is all about the OC's and might be spoilery if I can fit it in.)
> 
> The OC's I made are kind of hard to handle, especially since they don't have names right away. They really only exist because I didn't want Mikey to just accidentally stumble upon Master Splinter or overhear something really convenient like Shredder gloating about the exact location of Splinter's prison. "Now that I have locked Yoshi on the third floor, second door to the right, no one can stop me!" So, yeah, I know people don't generally like OC's and you don't have to like these if you don't want to. When I write them, I just try to keep in mind that every Foot soldier (did you guys know that was a pun?) is a person, with family and friends just like the turtles. Some of them are probably kids who joined because they thought it would be cool and now they can't leave. Lee and Miles are supposed to be kids like that. They've been friends a long time, but Lee's actually developed some fear-tempered loyalty for the Shredder. Part of the reason why is because the Shredder took him aside, as he does to some of his more trusted ninja, and told Lee to report to him if he heard anyone voicing suspicion or behaving in a way that could be construed as rebellious. Miles wasn't asked to report on anyone so he doesn't know that Lee could very well get him killed or turned into a mutant, but Lee knows. He saw what happened to Bebop and Rocksteady and he would honestly rather kill his friend than let that happen to him. However, that does not make it okay for the Shredder to hurt him.
> 
> Basically, I just think it's kind of a shame that the Foot ninjas are usually portrayed as mindless robots when there's people under those masks, so I try to portray a few of them as people.


	3. Chapter 3

The two glared at each other with narrowed eyes, one assessing, debating, the other fighting off a rising tide of panic. If Mikey knocked both of them out, it was possible that they wouldn’t be able to alert the Foot to his presence, but breaking out of the vent quickly would make a lot of noise and doing it slowly would give them time to shout a warning. If Donnie were there, he could-

Mikey shook his head, trying to shake that thought off as quickly as possible. Even though this was his chance to prove himself, he was still relying on his brothers, wondering what they would do. And that had to stop. He wasn’t going to get anything done if he kept pausing to wonder what Leo or Donnie or Raph would do. Michelangelo Hamato was a ninja. He had his own way of doing things. And as he watched Lee glance back to check on his friend, Mikey wondered if his way might include maybe trusting a Foot ninja.

One thing he did know for sure, if it turned out they couldn’t be trusted or if they tried to rat him out, they were getting a face full of nunchuck.

 

“Miles,” Lee whispered, his attentions still on the mutant turtle peeking out from behind the vent, “Do you think you can still deliver water to the rat?”

Miles, injured and annoyed, shrugged, “Sure, I mean, it wasn’t like I was planning on going to the infirmary or anything.”

“You’re fine. The bleeding’s already stopped.”

“I’m not fine. Our boss is a psychopath. I want to go home.” The last part was said in a plaintive whine. Lee tuned him out, his mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown.

One of the reasons he’d agreed to spy on his fellow ninja for the Shredder was because of the implicit promise that his friends and family would be protected. Miles had been his next-door neighbor when they were kids, they’d run away to live on the streets when they were seventeen but, unlike Lee, who was an only child, Miles always tried to send a paycheck back home for his little sister. Neither of them knew if it ever actually got to her or if his parents confiscated it every time. Now that they were trained ninja, they’d actually planned on making sure that she was getting the money. However, that didn’t mean they could go home. “We can’t do that, Miles,” Lee heard himself say. He watched some of the playfulness leave his friend’s face, driven away by a different kind of pain. The sad reality was: If the Foot Clan wasn’t their home, then they didn’t have one. Still, he had an idea. It was a dumb idea, one that could get them both killed, but his hands were covered in blood and he was feeling a little vengeful. Plus, he was tired of being someone else’s puppet. “Miles?”

“Yeah?”

Lee grinned wolvishly. “How do you feel about leading a lost turtle back to its master?”

He’d barely even finished the sentence when very turtle in question fell out of the vent, landing softly, with only the slightest wince the suggest that the drop had strained his legs at all. “I for one,” Mikey said, his hands hanging loosely by his nunchucks, “would be very grateful if you did.”

“Dude,” Miles struggled to sit up, “Am I hallucinating or is that one of the turtles the boss hates so much? What’s he doing here? Where’s his brothers?” He spun around, lowering his voice considerably as he hissed to Lee, “And you want me to help him? Are you insane? The Shredder would kill both of us.”

“Only if he catches you.” Mikey interposed helpfully, looking far too relaxed for comfort.

Lee made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, the Shredder’s already betrayed us. It would have been one thing if this,” he gestured to the three wounds, “happened because of what you said about the rat-“

“Splinter,” interrupted the turtle.

“Splinter. Whatever.” Lee waved him off. “The point is: I want a little payback. Are you in?” He really hoped so. Even if he tried to help the turtle by himself, he didn’t actually know where the rat- Splinter was being kept.

Nodding slowly, Miles finally said, “Alright, I’m in.”

“Yes!” Mikey let a whoop, then hushed when he was quickly quieted by the other two.  
As Lee pulled Miles to his feet, Miles asked, “So, where are your brothers, kid?”

Avoiding eye contact, Mikey hummed a little, the smile on his face small, “My brothers are… Well, I guess you could say they’re getting in touch with their roots."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't actually like how chapter 2 went, so I wrote this to try to simplify the writing a little and get Mikey's characterization back on track.


	4. Chapter 4

The lair, which should have been quiet now that Mikey was gone and most of its occupants couldn't speak, was filled the aggravated stomping of a teenaged girl. It'd been fifteen minutes since she'd walked through the door to see three small turtles trying to move a chair. Upon seeing her, they'd scattered, and she'd been searching for them, still in her pajamas, ever since. Mikey had sounded so urgent on the phone that she'd just pulled on her sneakers and run over. Now, she wished she'd at least pulled on a t-shirt or something.

"Come on, guys," She groaned as she checked under the counter for the fifth time, her ears open for the scratch of claws on concrete, "You need to be kept hydrated. If you keep running around, you'll dry up." She didn't actually know how long it took turtles to dry up, but she'd known a girl a few years back who'd adopted three baby turtles she'd found in a pond by her house. They hadn't exactly been friends, but April remembered asking her how her pets were a week after she'd first put them in a tank.

"They died." The girl had said. "Foamed at the mouth and everything. Mom says I was supposed to give them water." Any chances of them being friends evaporated after April pulled her pigtails.

In any case, she was not going to let that happen to her brothers.

April wandered over to the couch, still wondering how she could draw the boys out from their hiding places. Then a thought occurred to her. She felt her lips spread into a grin.

This might work.

Sighing dramatically, April let herself slump against the couch's frame, the back of her hand hovering over her forehead. "Oh, if only I could find Donnie" she lamented, imitating the Disney princesses she'd watched when she was a toddler and the old romances her dad liked to make her watch with him, "I think I'd be so relieved I'd just kiss him." Just as planned, a high squeak and a soft thump followed her words. She ducked down and shot under the couch, pulling out a turtle with a purple bandanna wrapped around his plastron. "Gotcha!" He squirmed in her arms, flippers flapping uselessly against her hands as he cried softly.

Seeing him look so small and sad made the small amount of triumph April had felt at catching him turn cold and hard. "I'm sorry, Don." Her mind went out to him, trying to connect, just like it had with Master Splinter. "I just want to keep you guys safe." And she found him. Less of him. It was difficult to explain, but the interior of the turtle's head felt less busy then it usually did, less crowded. There were still thoughts and feelings, and it was pretty clear that he recognized her. The problem was there were no details. He knew what he wanted to do and why, it was the how that was missing.

Considering how smart Donnie was, his brothers might have been even worse. She pulled out, returning safely to her own head, only to feel a sharp pain on her ankle. "Seriously, Raph?" Don cried again, struggling harder now that his brother was in sight. In response, the red-banded turtle increased the pressure on her ankle.

Did he think biting her ankle would make her drop Donnie or put him down?

_Raph, I know you're used to getting your way but you're six inches long. The only thing you're doing right now is giving me a headache._

Having had enough, April faked a pained gasp. Raph immediately backed off, concern shining in his green eyes. Making a big show of it, April crouched as though she were going to check on her ankle. When the green-eyed turtle edged in closer so he could check too, she snatched him up. "You know," April said over the turtle's indignant squawks, "I bet Casey would just love to see this." Raph narrowed his eyes. April smirked. "You think I won't do it, don't you?" The red-banded turtle chirped something at her that made Don's jaw drop. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't very nice. Still, he stopped moving.

Then he glared very pointedly at Donnie. And kept glaring, until Don started chittering nervously in the general direction of empty air, his eyes flicking every now and then back to Raph to check to see if he'd stopped glaring yet. If anything, Raph only seemed to glare harder.

April huffed.

Should she just make good on her threat and call Casey? April wasn't sure how much more of this she was going to be able to take by herself. Plus, if Mikey didn't show up in a few hours, she'd be heading over with the hockey-obsessed vigilante to pay the Foot Clan a visit, anyway. But she could only do that if she knew Leo, Raph, and Donnie were safe and wouldn't get themselves killed trying to follow them.

Well, she'd captured two of them, so that was a start, at least. Now she just needed to find Leo…

Her gaze drifted to the blue-banded turtle walking out from behind a lamp. He was staring at her, as though patiently waiting to be picked up.

Wait, no… That wasn't it.

He wasn't staring at her. He was staring at his brothers. The brothers she happened to be inadvertently holding hostage.

Grumbling, April muttered, "If you guys are trying to make me feel bad, congratulations. You succeeded." Since she couldn't pick up Leo with her hands full, she turned around to place Raph and Donnie on the kitchen counter, "Don't you dare go anywhere," then she turned her back on them to go find Leo. Only Leo wasn't there anymore. After a split second of astonished gawking, April's brain kicked back into gear. She spun around to see an empty counter.

Whoever said turtles were slow had obviously never had to babysit them before. 

On the floor, Raph and Don were making their way to the exit. Leo was nowhere in sight. Once they saw she'd caught sight of them, they yelped and took off, Raph speeding towards the kitchen table and Donnie under a nearby cabinet. April ran to the cabinet, dropped to her knees, and saw nothing under it except dust and a few strands of hair.

"Stupid ninja turtles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April can't see him, but Leo is so smug right now.


	5. Chapter 5

"Come on, Donnie, eat the cucumber." Casey watched with undisguised glee as the turtle looked at him dubiously, then slowly tried to take a bite. Before his jaws shut, Casey pulled the cucumber away, letting the surprised turtle shut his empty jaws with a click. Laughing, he called over his shoulder, "Hey, April, come look at this."

April poked her head out of the kitchen. It'd taken her and Casey fifteen minutes to find Raph and Don so they could drop them in the glass bowl April had managed to find in the kitchen cabinets. Leo, as usual, was only found when he wanted to be, which was only after his brothers were well and captured. The bowl was a little too small to fit the three of them, but April didn't have it in her to split them up, so they just had to make due with being a little crowded, which they didn't seem to mind too much, anyway. "Donnie's gonna _kill_ you when he gets his mutagen back. You know that, right?"

Casey waved her off. "Nah, it's cool. D can take a joke. Can't you, little buddy?" The purple-banded turtle snapped at the tips of his fingers.

April watched Casey snatch his hand away, a smirk on her face. "Face it, Jones. The second you pulled that cucumber away your fate was sealed."

Looking genuinely nervous, Casey glanced at the angry little turtle in the fishbowl. "Listen, Donnie, you can have the cucumber." He tossed it in. Donnie turned away from the offending vegetable with a sniff. "Look, I was only kidding. Don't- I don't know – go mad scientisty on me or anything, okay?" Donnie turned away from the offending human with a sniff. Casey stuck his hands in hair, propped his elbows the table, and groaned, "Oh, come on!"

April squeezed his shoulder. Casey looked up at her hopefully and she smiled, "Don't worry, Casey. I'll make sure they bury you with your hockey stick."

 

The last thing Mikey wanted to do was get back in the air vent. "It's cold in there!" He whined, wringing his hands as Lee met his puppy eyes without any signs of wavering. "There's bugs and it's too small and," he showed off the scrapes on his knees and elbows, "I'm injured." That last complaint actually seemed to harden the ninja against him.

Lee jabbed a thumb in Miles' direction, " _He's_ injured. You're not. Now, it doesn't matter what you say because we wouldn't walk five steps out that door with you without being spotted and executed." At the look of horror in the turtle's eyes, he softened a little, adding more gently, "I can't help you like you asked unless you listen to me, do you understand that?"

Leaning against the wall, Miles watched some of the weariness leave Mikey's eyes at the admission. He wondered if the kid only even complained about going back into the vent because he wanted to know what they would say. Then again, he could just want to keep a closer eye on them. If they did betray him, he'd be a sitting duck in that vent, after all. Unfortunately, there really wasn't any other way to go about it.

Of course, there seemed to be one more reason that even the turtle was completely aware of. Habit.

"Okay." Mikey finally said, accepting defeat. He turned to the corner, trying to calculate in his head the exact amount of height and power he'd need to propel himself to the vent's opening while still being as quiet as possible. Just when it seemed like he was about to jump, he turned back to face the both of him, the mask of his former confidence gone. They'd wondered if the kid was treating his rescue mission like it was a game because he didn't understand the stakes, but it looked like they didn't have to worry. For some reason, though, Miles couldn't stand to see the raw fear in his blue eyes when he asked, "You guys definitely won't betray me, right?"

Lee nodded, not meeting the kid's eyes. Mikey acknowledged the nod with a halfhearted shrug, then grinned. "K. Just making sure." He leapt into the air, soundlessly pushing off of the wall until he was high enough to make a grab for the edge of the empty space he'd left behind.

Once he was in, Lee sternly told him to stay put while he and Miles went to get another jug of water. "Don't you dare make a sound."

"Like a turtle do," followed their backs as they left to find the supply closet. Miles was quiet as they walked away, his arms folded across his chest, then he muttered, loud enough so his partner could hear, "We aren't going to betray him, right?" Blue eyes, freckles, a trusting smile. They'd done a lot of questionable things since they agreed to work under Master Tin Can, but betraying a kid, even a mutant kid, seemed like a new low.

In reply, Lee exhaled loudly through his teeth. "Not if we can help it, but," he stopped, gripping Miles lightly by the shoulder, "if it's a choice between us or him or him and you, then, yeah, I'll betray him."

"If he tries to fight the boss alone, he won't survive." The supply closet was only a few steps away. Miles grimaced as he bent to pick up a jug on the floor. There was a faucet nearby. He twisted the screw top and watched the water mixed with rust flakes fill the jug. Once it was full, Lee helped him back to his feet.

"I know you like him." Lee fished their blood-soaked masks out of his belt, pulled it over his head, then tossed Miles his so he could do the same. "He's a lot like you."

Miles frowned, the water in his arms sloshing slightly as he tried to loosen the fabric around his face. "He's nicer than I am. He gave you a hard time about going back into the vent, but I think he just wanted to hear you say it was a bad idea." Well, that and the whole betrayal thing.

They started heading back. "Why would you say that?"

"Well," Miles started, "it was simple, right? Your decision, your argument, and getting him to do what you said wasn't that hard. He barely resisted. I think he sensed that you've got a lot of hard choices on your plate, so he gave you an easy one." Though it seemed more like he was doing it out of habit than for Lee's sake.

"Is that why you constantly try to be irritating?" Lee asked, sounding cautiously hopeful.

Miles freed up one of his hands so he could push open the door. "Nope. I'm just naturally a joy to be around."

Sighing, Lee replied, "Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that." They walked on, Miles whistling softly, so the kid hiding above their heads would know to follow them.

 

"Hey, Reggie!" The guard standing watch in front of Master Splinter's cell jolted as two of his fellow clansmen approached. Apparently, one of them had done something to displease Master Shredder. And it didn't take him long to guess his identity. And if Miles was back to give water to their prisoner, then the ninja by his side could only be Lee.

"It's R." Reggie hissed, his fingers twitching for his shruiken. "Have you ever heard of a ninja named Reggie?"

Miles tilted his head to the side, as though something he'd said confused him. "Of course I have. I'm looking at one right now." Reggie growled, but Lee stepped in before things could escalate.

"Woah, listen, we're just here to do our job. Master Shredder ordered us to keep the rat alive. The faster you let us through, the faster we'll be out of your hair." After he'd cooled a little, Reggie shifted to let them pass. Then the air vent creaked. It sounded like it was straining under the weight of something. Before either of the other two ninja could react, he threw three shruiken at the spot where he heard the sound. Two of them went wide, passing through the metal easily without meeting any resistance. The last one hit something.

A strangled scream issued from the cracks in the vent, tapering off into a whimper, and he watched as blood began to drip from the pointed edge of his throwing star.

"What-"

Lee cut him off. "Way to go, R." A derisive snort. "Sounds like you killed a rat."

It hadn't sounded like a rat to him. Not human, either. He glanced up at the vent, shivering. Killing intent was creeping over his skin, except it wasn't coming from the ceiling. He looked at Miles. The ninja didn't have his weapons drawn, yet he'd never actually looked more threatening.

"Um, Miles?" Reggie gulped, all thoughts of the vent and the rat momentarily forgotten. "Did I offend you, somehow?"

Determined not to look at the blood dripping steadily on the floor, Miles ground out, "I just so happen to be a huge fan of rats." He took a few steps forward., keeping the jug in one arm so he could at least look capable of drawing a weapon. "And I can't say I appreciate what you just did." Well, that explained why he'd been chosen to take care of their prisoner.

Reggie put his hands up, not sure why he was being made to feel like he did something wrong. Rats in the ventilation system were unsanitary. They died and decomposed and they smelled. Lee blocked Miles' way, putting himself between them again, and said, "This isn't what we're here for. We're not here to fight you. Just let us through, R."

Suddenly feeling stubborn, Reggie thrust his chin out. "Actually, I changed my mind." Lee made of noise of disbelief while Miles clenched and unclenched his hands, looking as though he were dying to put them around Reggie's throat. "Master Shredder only assigned one of you to water duty." He gestured to Lee. "You stay out here." Then, not actually looking at Miles, he added, "You can go inside."

Miles made to shove past him, but Lee grabbed his arm. Frustrated, Miles turned around to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing when Lee said, "Miles, are you sure you want to do this?" The statement was ambiguous enough, though the guard still felt a pinch of suspicion at his fellow clansmen's tone. It was too desperate to be casual.

Miles relaxed, the folds of his mask moving in a way that suggested he'd put a grin on his face. "You know I've got this." Reluctantly, Lee let him go.

 

Even after he was inside the cell, Miles didn't dare check to make sure the turtle was okay. Something about Mikey complaining about the cold had bothered him, though it'd taken him a while to figure out just what it was. As far as he knew, the vents near the prisons were rarely ever used. Why waste money on keeping prisoners comfortable? However, the air conditioning was definitely on today. He could feel the cool air sting his chest as he watched the rat – Master Splinter – meditate behind the iron bars.

His arms and legs were chafed from the chains shackled to his body, his fur matted with blood. The first time Miles saw him, he'd wondered how anyone could be so completely screwed and yet so calm.

He'd also wondered how a rodent that would sending him girlishly screaming to the nearest chair if it could anywhere near a foot could somehow grow to be somewhere around six feet tall.

Yeah, he hadn't actually meant it when he'd told Reggie he liked rats. Or, at least, he probably only liked them as much as anyone liked things that invaded their dreams at night.

Still, beady black eyes and chomping teeth didn't exactly describe the rat he was looking at. Not even a little. And why was that? What made him different? If there was anything he really wanted to know, now was probably his last chance to ask. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he opened the small gate in the cell door and slid the jug of water through it. When the rat – _Splinter_ – still didn't move, he cleared his throat.

Splinter cracked one eye open. "My apologies. Was there something you needed?" He made a pick show of seeming unperturbed until he noticed that the ninja crouching in front of his cell was injured. Both eyes open, he asked, "My son, are you alright? Did the Shredder do that to you?"

Miles barked out a laugh. Speaking lowly, he replied, "Got it one. " Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something shift behind the small window at the other end of the room. Focusing his attention on that without turning his head, he was certain it was a tiger's eye.

Splinter couldn't see it, the dividing wall in his cell blocked his vision, but he felt the change in the young ninja's demeanor as he abandoned their conversation and stood up, seemingly stretching. "It's too bad about these digs, isn't it?" He said loudly. "I mean, I know we hate you and all, but you'd think we could get you someplace a little less cramped." _Come on, Mike. Give me a sign that you know what I'm trying to tell you._

Splinter's eyes widened. He looked up towards the ceiling, pain and fear etched into his expression. Whispering, he said, "Please, tell me. Are my sons here?" Keeping his eye on the window, Miles nodded. "Are they injured?" He nodded again, keeping a smile on his face for appearance's sake. The tiger eye moved, replaced by the glint of metal. When he glanced back at Master Splinter, Miles suddenly found himself the main focus of a desperate plea. "Will you help them?"

Quietly, but not quietly enough not to be heard by a certain mutant turtle, Miles said, "I'm sorry I can't help you anymore than I have, already." No matter how much he liked the kid, Lee was right- this wasn't their fight.

Splinter kept his back straight, refusing to let his disappointment show when the boy standing in front of him had already done so much more than he would have expected from a disciple of Oroku Saki's. "You've done more than enough, my son. The water was quite thirst quenching." He moved a paw to push the jug towards the gate but stopped when Miles waved his hand.

"There's enough water in there for at least one more mutant, keep it." It was the last thing he could think of, the only way to prepare Splinter for the one-man rescue that was likely going to happen soon. At his words, horror filled the rat's red eyes. His lips parted, the words, "Only one?" unspoken but still heard. It almost made Miles wish he'd just left without saying anything.

He turned, his hand on the door handle, then flicked his gaze one last time to the window at the other end of the room. If the narrowing the tiger's eye meant anything, then he likely hadn't been as subtle as he'd hoped.

Heh.

He really should have just left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably start a little before where this one leaves off, since it's switching back to Mikey's POV. Hope everyone is hanging in there with their exams and papers.


	6. Chapter 6

_Bap._

_Bap._

_Bap._

Casey flopped over on his half of the bisected couch, groaning. "April?"

"Yeah, Casey?" April, her knees drawn up to her chest, didn't even glance in his direction, instead keeping her eyes fixed on the radioactive blue television screen as she continued to flip through the channels. Either the Cable Network was playing some weird experimental TV show on every channel, all night, or the katana jutting from the center of the screen was really putting a damper on their reception.

"The turtles are making noise again."

"Then get up and see why," she snapped, finally turning to look at him.

Casey grunted. "But I got up fifteen minutes ago. It's your turn to check on them."

April narrowed her blue eyes until she had a really good glower going. And while Casey didn't think setting people on fire was actually one of her weird psychic powers, the girl definitely deserved an A for effort. 'Look, you said you wanted to help-"

"Because they're turtles!" He threw his hands in the air, as though the ceiling would somehow take pity on him, "I thought, 'How hard can it be? They're quiet. They eat lettuce. They-"

_Bap._

"Go." April growled.

"Alright, I'm going." Sulking, Casey kicked and twisted until he finally managed to free himself of the couch's evil clutches. He stifled another yawn as he walked over to the bowl.

Well, Donnie and Leo looked alright. Maybe a little freaked out but that wasn't anything new. And Raph…

_Bap._

Raph was banging his head against the glass. Casey nodded, accepting this. Yes, of course Raph was banging his head against the glass. This was perfectly normal behavior. Yep, nothing out of the ordinary here.

Just as he was about to turn away, he noticed a red smear on the glass.

Correction: This was not normal.

He yelped, quickly sticking his hand between the glass and the red-banded turtle's forehead. "April?" He called, and his voice may have been slightly higher than usually - not that he would ever admit it - because April practically jumped to her feet and ran to his side.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She saw the smear. Casey, meanwhile, winced as the turtle continued to pound his head against the back of his hand. Honestly, if his sister ever asked for a pet, he was getting her a goldfish. Goldfish didn't make noise or refuse to eat cucumbers. Goldfish were _nice._

"Well?" April was staring at him like he was missing something extremely obvious, and considering his track record he probably was, but that did not mean he was going to beg the redhead to share with the class. Seeing he didn't know what she was talking about, she rolled her eyes. "Pick him up."

Right. Huh. Why didn't he think of that?

He lifted the turtle out of the bowl, frowning as Raph desperately tried to swat at him with his flippers. It was kind of awful, seeing him so helpless. Casey knew Mikey would be coming back with the mutagen soon, but still… it wasn't any fun making fun of his buddy when he couldn't fight back. And definitely not when he was wide-eyed with terror.

Don and Leo looked up, both making as much noise as they could with vocal cords that weren't really meant for sound. They pawed at the sides of the bowl, necks outstretched. While Casey kept his grip on Raph, April went into the bathroom for some floss, antiseptic, and a cotton ball.

"Hold him still while I tie this on." After the puffy white cotton ball was placed on Raph's head, she wrapped the floss around it and tied a knot under his lower jaw. Both Raph and Casey weren't happy about the arrangement. Raph got one look at his reflection in the bowl and squawked at it with righteous outrage. The only one who seemed to like Raph's new makeshift helmet was Donnie, who bobbed up and down happily at the sight, stopping only after Raph thwacked him upside the head with his flipper.

"You're turning my bro cute and adorable, April." Casey muttered sourly as they made their way back to the couch. "It's awful."

April huffed. "Would you rather he keep hurting himself?"

Well, no, but maybe they could have colored the cotton ball black or drawn a little skull on it or –

_Ting._

_Ting._

_Ting._

They stopped in their tracks, not believing their ears. What was this? They hadn't even gotten to the couch this time!

"April, are we in Hell?"

"No, Casey."

"Are we stuck in a time loop?"

"No, Casey."

"Cursed?"

April paused, considering. "I don't think so." As one, they turned to see Leo, Donnie, and Raph stacked one on top of the other, with Don on the bottom, Raph in the middle, and Leo on the top. He leaned towards the edge, toppled…. and landed safely on his shell. The two turtles still in the bowl crowed with triumph, until they realized that their fearless leader was stuck on his back, his legs flailing ineffectually as he struggled to overbalance.

"This is sad." Casey admitted. "I can't even laugh at this."

"If you did," April replied as she moved forward to pick up Leo, "you'd be missing more teeth."

Once Leo was set back in the bowl, he retracted his head into his shell and refused to come out. "Don't worry about Leo," comforted the well-meaning hockey player, April's warning still in mind. "Raph looks _way_ more embarrassing then you did."

_Whack!_

"Ow!" Casey cried, rubbing sore his arm. "What did I do?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get serious from here on out. Hope you're all ready.
> 
> PS: Writing in Casey's POV is wonderful. He's digging his hole so deep he's gonna come out on the other side of the Earth.
> 
> Edit: Okay, posting this at 5 in the morning was a mistake. Hopefully, this version is better.


	7. Chapter 7

The temperature in the ventilation system felt like it’d dropped another ten degrees by the time Miles finally stopped whistling, which Mikey guessed to mean they’d arrived at wherever Master Splinter was being held captive.

“Jeez,” he rubbed his arms, trying to get some warmth in them, “if the Shredder wanted to build a snowman, all he had to do was ask.” And wasn’t that an image? Mikey found the thought of the Shredder begging to build a snowman cheering, and laughed under his breath as the voices below him started to sound a little agitated.

“It’s R,” said a voice he didn’t recognize. 

Poor guy. 

He probably didn’t have any friends to give him a nickname so he had to go and give himself a lame one. That was okay, though. Because Mikey was great at making up nicknames!

Happily oblivious to his surroundings, the turtle started thinking up new nicknames for the poor, sad Foot ninja. Rad started with R. Radiator. Radio. Ravioli.

Mikey licked his lips.

A blast of cool air shocked him out of his thoughts; his body shuddered at the contact. The motion, however small, was too much for the vent, though. It creaked.

Mikey jerked away from the sides as two shruiken punctured the floor, nearly impaling his shoulders. Then he felt his skin tear like ripping fabric, the yelp escaping from his mouth before he could stop it. Knowing he didn’t have much time, he thought of the Rat King’s rat minions, the angry, mournful sound they made when he hit them with his nunchuck, and tried to imitate it.

He heard Lee say, “Sounded like you killed a rat,” and nearly cried with relief. That was way too close. 

A glance back revealed a shruiken sticking out of the skin between his toes. Tentatively, he tried lifting his foot, only to feel his entire leg clench up in pain so intense he had to slam his jaws shut just to make sure he didn’t cry out again. Grimacing, Mike figured the throwing star had either hit a nerve or was rubbing up against bone. As if having one sticking out of his foot wasn’t enough.

The voices below him changed as one started to move farther away. 

Although his foot hurt, he was a ninja. He’d been hurt worse in a spar. Pain wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. And if he told himself this enough, he was sure he would start to believe it.

 _I was born with this pain_ , Mikey thought as he moved forward, tearing his foot from the blade as he went. _I’ve known it all my life._ He breathed deep, relaxing his muscles. _I can barely feel it now. It has always been a part of me and now it gives me strength._

It was a sort of self-hypnosis that his sensei had taught him the first time he broke his arm. Slowly, the pain drifted behind the wall of fog he’d created in his mind. It was still there, waiting for him. It would come back whenever he lost focus or whenever he decided he was ready to face it. But, for now, it was at a level he could manage.

Mikey didn’t actually know when he’d be ready to take on an injury that was a 100x worse than a paper cut, but he figured he could probably worry about that sometime after he escaped without being turned into a turtle shish kabob.

There was a grill he could probably see through about a foot ahead, so he scooted towards it, his eyes and ears already searching for Master Splinter.

“…maybe we could get you someplace a little less cramped,” Miles was saying, his hand gripping the back of his neck. 

Mikey frowned, wondering why the Foot ninja was speaking so loudly. Master Splinter wasn’t deaf. He had excellent hearing, actually. Too good. One time, when Mikey woke up in the middle of the night to raid the pantry…. Wait…

Cramped?

Looking at the room closely, Mike felt a surge of anger when he saw his sensei injured and chained to the wall, but he threw it past the fog with his pain, because he needed to think clearly now. Anger could- would come later.

Two cells. One prisoner. 

Master Splinter was big but the cell was plenty big enough for him. He could probably walk three paces in any direction. 

Also, why did Miles raise his voice? Master Splinter was sitting right in front of him.

The only reason he’d do that would be if he wanted make sure his voice traveled through the grill, to make sure Mikey heard him.

The word tumbled over in his head. Cramped? That was like crowded, right? Crowds had a lot of people in them, not just one. It couldn’t be crowded with just one person, so…

Mike peered through the gaps in the shutters, looking for a window or a door.

And caught sight of a tiger’s eye.

The Foot ninja’s apology hit him at around the same time Mikey realized he was going to be fighting Tiger Claw alone. Then the eye moved, its place in the window replaced by steel blades.

Up until that point, he’d been pretty confident that rescuing his father and stealing back the mutagen would be a walk in the park. A very dangerous park, with lots of pointy objects and people who wanted to kill him, but still a park. Even when he was lost, he never actually thought he couldn’t do it. Just that it might take a little longer than he’d planned. 

Now, he wasn’t so sure coming alone had been one of his brightest ideas. In fact, on a scale of putting marshmallows on his pizza to messing with the mutagen in Donnie’s lab, he figured this plan rated at about jumping off a blimp with no parachute.

It was too late to back out now, though. He’d just have to make it work, somehow.

Heart pounding in his chest, he watched the retreating back of one of the only two allies he had, and smiled. Whether they thought so or not, Miles and Lee had really helped him out by leading him to Master Splinter. He hoped things worked out for them.

Then Miles paused on his way out, said something that made Master Splinter look like he’d had his heart torn from his chest, and left.

“Not cool, dude.” Mikey muttered.

Almost on cue, Tiger Claw stepped into the cell. All six and a half feet of him.

“It seems your men are more loyal to you than you believe, Master Shredder. ” He glanced up at the vent, his teeth bared in a predatory grin. “Though he needn’t have bothered with the warning. I could smell the turtle’s fear.”

_Yeah, well, you don’t smell so great yourself._

“Perhaps,” the Shredder replied, sounding unconvinced.

Within seconds, the grill was ripped to shreds, leaving nothing between Mikey and the roaring mouth below him. 

Which was just fine with him.

“Booyakasha!” A smoke bomb landed in the tiger’s jaws, streaming from his mouth and obscuring the room.

For a while, Tiger Claw could only strike out blindly, his nose and eyes rendered useless by the smoke. 

The space between the wall and bars was too narrow for guns or swords. Though the location had been chosen to limit the movements of the turtle, he found it was also leaving him at a disadvantage. A disadvantage he thought he’d easily be able to overcome with his claws.

Eventually, the smoke cleared.

If either Tiger Claw or the Shredder had expected Mikey and Splinter to be gone, they were sorely disappointed. Instead of thin air, the sight that greeted them was Michelangelo ineffectually hacking at his sensei’s chains.

“Come on!” He tried again, ignoring his sensei’s pleas for him to run because, “I’m not leaving without you!” Again. “Come on, stupid chains! Break!” Nothing. They weren’t breaking. He grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled, grunting as he forced his injured foot to bear his weight.

Just when he thought he felt the wall start to give, time ran out.

“What do you think you’re doing, turtle?” Mikey gulped, looking up to see a Bengal tiger glaring down at him atop the bars. Claws came rushing at him, so he threw himself to the side.

“Woah!” Mike exclaimed as he pushed off the wall. “Did somebody forget to change your litter box today?”

Tiger Claw growled. “I have no need for a litter box.”

The turtle glanced up at the tiger, a frown on his face. “Ew, dude.”

Roaring, the tiger sprung at him, then roared again, louder, when Master Splinter struck him down.

“Do. Not.” Splinter leapt on his back, using what little slack he had with his chains to wrap them around the tiger’s throat, “Touch. My. Son!”

Mikey whooped. “Go Sensei!” 

Once he felt the tiger was safely secured, Splinter spared a fond look for his son. After everything he’d been through, Mikey shone in it like a flower. Then Splinter’s eyes widened, his mouth half-way formed into a warning, and Mikey moved just in time to avoid three blades as they sliced through the metal bars like they were made of wax. 

He’d been so happy to see his sensei, so sure that everything would be all right again once they were together, that he’d forgotten just how fast the Shredder could be.

He couldn’t scramble away fast enough. The Shredder’s hand clamped around the tip of his shell, throwing him from the cell and slamming him against the wall. 

“No!” Splinter ran towards them, until his chains snapped taut and he stumbled back. “Shredder,” he begged. “Don’t do this.”

Cool metal sliced through Mikey’s left arm, his dominant arm, pinning him to the wall. Again, he had the distinct impression that he was made of fabric, and all these blades were tearing him apart at the seams. 

Instead of crying out, he swallowed down his urge to scream, bit back the tears, and glared, staring defiantly right into the Shredder’s ruined eyes. 

“Tell me, mutant, where are your brothers?” The Shredder asked, sounding smug. And, for a moment, Mikey was afraid he’d raided the wrong place. What if it was actually the Krang that had the mutagen and he’d have to limp over to their spaceship after he defeated the Shredder and claimed his rightful place as Cheese Lord?

The thought almost made him laugh. 

Nah, the metal dude definitely had something to do with it. He already had his gloating voice going and that meant he thought – or hoped - he knew something Mikey didn’t. So Mike used the pain he’d been ignoring, used it to make his voice sound raw, tired, and frightened. It was way easier then he’d have liked it to be.

“My brothers?” He lunged forward, as though the blades in his arm were the only thing keeping him from knocking the Shredder’s helmet off his head and beating him with it. “What did you do to them? Where are they?”

Just as he’d hoped, the Shredder leaned back, chuckling. “So you didn’t find our little present?” That was for him? Did that mean this whole thing had been a trap from the beginning? “Well, then your brothers are most likely dead, mutant.”

This time, Mikey lunged at him for real. “Liar!” 

The Shredder reacted by calmly smashing his head against the wall. “I do not lie, little fool.” Then he moved the brown wrapping around his middle, revealing three glowing blue vials of mutagen.

 _Of course, he’d keep it on himself_ , Mikey realized, his eyes widening, _There’s no one else he trusts._

“So, you see, turtle,” the Shredder finished, “ there is no one coming to save you or your precious master this time. My vengeance is almost complete.”

“Shredder!” Splinter yelled, his arms and legs straining against the chains. “Release my son at once!”

Sounding amused, the Shredder replied, “And why should I? What have you ever done for me, Hamato?” Glaring back at the turtle in his mercy, he added, “Once your pet is dead, I will cut off your head, and then my daughter will be returned to me.” He twisted the blades in Mikey’s arm, driving a scream out of him. “Face it, Hamato. Your time is over.”

Splinter sagged.

“You’re right.” Mikey panted, struggling to keep his voice even. He was exhausted now, and in so much pain it was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, but he had everyone’s attention. Sometimes, that was enough. Choosing his words carefully, he said, “I’m not Hamato Yoshi’s son.” _No, sensei, please don’t look at me like that._ “My brothers and I were bought at a pet shop. We’re his pets.” He grinned, and if a little blood trickled from his lip, well, that was fine, too. “That’s all we’ve ever been.”

“Michelangelo.” Mikey closed his eyes. “You cannot truly believe this?” 

Instead of looking at the way his father had his ears pressed against his head, his tail still and lifeless, Mikey kept his eyes on the Shredder, who was looking entirely too pleased at the moment. The jerk.

“I see, Hamato.” He laughed, full and deep. “Even your pets do not love you.”

“That’s not true.” Mikey said quickly. “I do love him. That’s why I want him to live.” He grunted, struggling against the black clouds starting to creep on his vision. If he survived this, he could pass out later. “What’s worse? Losing everything you loved and then dying? Or losing everything you loved and living?”

It didn’t take long for Splinter to realize what his son was suggesting, and though he thought the Shredder would never even consider letting him live, his former friend actually appeared to be considering his son’s words.

“No!” He yanked at his chains. “You will not take my son from me! I will not let you!”

“You cannot stop me.” 

Behind him, Tiger Claw began to stand, having already untangled the chains from around his neck. “Your orders, Master?”

The Shredder nodded in Splinter’s direction, who began knawing on his shackles in an renewed attempt to free himself. “Take the rodent from my sight.” Turning back to Mikey, he said, “I will allow your precious sensei to live for a while. Knowing that he could not save you will destroy him far better than any torture could. “ Pausing thoughtfully, he added, “Your cruelty is impressive.” And Mikey thought he felt sick before. 

As he spoke, Tiger Claw approached Splinter, and narrowly dodged the tail whipped at his head. “If you wish to keep your hands,” Splinter growled, “I suggest you keep them away from me.”

Sparing a sidelong glance for his master, Tiger Claw shrugged, drew one of the guns and electrified the chains. The rat fell to the floor, twitching.

“Sensei!” 

While he was incapacitated, the tiger unlocked his manacles, gathered him in his arms, and then threw him over his shoulder. Splinter groaned, his head lolling slightly as his eyes struggled to find his son. When they finally found him, Mikey mouthed, _Sorry sensei._ And his heart squeezed when he saw that his father was still reaching for him, still determined to save him. 

The Shredder saw that, too. 

“However,” He sneered as ice pierced Mikey’s plastron, “my vengeance will mean nothing if he does not see you draw your last breath.”


	8. Chapter 8

It seemed like forever before sensei stopped screaming. It didn’t matter how many times Tiger Claw shocked him or how injured was, he just kept getting up, kept lunging for the Shredder’s throat.

And while part of Mikey was super proud of his sensei, the other part - the part that wasn’t just pretending to be dying but was actually dying – wished he would just let Tiger Claw drag him away so Mikey could stop pretending to be dead before it stopped being just an act.

After the blades entered him, he’d let fear make his eyes go wide and round, let his mouth form into a wordless question, and then he let himself sag. As far as pranks went, this was probably the worst and best thing he’d ever done.

And he had the Shredder’s inexperience with killing mutant turtles to thank for it. His plastron had impeded the blades just enough. Enough to give him a fighting chance.

With that said, he was pretty sure the Swiss cheese look wasn’t good for his health and he really needed to get himself patched up soon. What he needed was Doctor Donnie. And maybe Leo. Possibly Raph.

He was tired and hurt and tired of being hurt and he didn’t even care if he was the one who saved the day, anymore. He just wanted his brothers back.

“Tiger Claw?” Shredder asked as he finally sheathed his steel claws, letting the turtle at his mercy sink to the floor. “Could you check on the ninja who brought the water? I’d like to speak with him.”

Tiger Claw shot Splinter with a paralyzer ray, forcing him to still. Then he bowed. “Of course, Master.”

Time passed. Mikey refused to move, breathing shallow so the rise and fall of his chest was barely noticeable. As was appropriate for someone who was presumably dead or dying. Not far from him, the Shredder cleaned his blades. It was all the turtle could do not to cringe, not because he was lying in a pool of his own blood, though that wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, but because his sensei’s face kept invading his brain. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he never saw Master Splinter again, the last thing he’d said to him was that he wasn’t his son.

He was angry that he’d been forced to hurt his sensei, even if it had been to save his life, frightened because he didn’t think he’d ever been hurt this badly before, and ashamed of himself for not thinking of another way. A better way. A way that didn’t end with him being praised by his dad’s arch-nemesis. That just made his skin crawl.

After maybe ten minutes, Tiger Claw returned. Mikey opened one of his eyes a sliver to see that the tiger’s cheek was scratched and one of his arms bled a steady stream.

Silently, Mikey cheered whoever managed to do that.

“The ninja you sent me after tried to escape.” Inwardly, Mikey frowned. “He took out a dozen of our Foot Bots before he faced me.” Tiger Claw chuckled. “As you can see, he fought bravely. It wasn’t enough.” The Foot mask dripped gore as he handed it over to his master, who tossed it aside. 

Shouts of denial filled Mikey’s head. Tiger Claw was lying. Miles was fine. He’d seen him just fifteen minute ago and he was fine. They were just trying to shake- to trick him into giving himself away. 

The Shredder made a noise of disapproval. “It seems Hamato’s pets have the same knack for taking my best ninja away from me as their owner.” He stood, then tilted his head slightly. “And what of the ninja he was with?”

_I never should have asked them to help me._

“The ninja I faced fought alone. There was no one else.”

_This is my fault._

The Shredder nodded, showing an amount of concern for the death of his men that was usually reserved for weather reports and celebrity break-ups. 

For a moment, Mikey was so consumed by his grief that he forgot where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. It wasn’t until he felt the cool touch of steel fingers on his forehead that he snapped up, snatching the mutagen from the Shredder before he could move past the shock of suddenly being assaulted by a “corpse.”

Not even bothering with a quip, he leapt onto and off of the tiger’s shoulder, using it to get back into the vents. Then he crawled as fast as he could with one arm cradling mutagen before the section he was on was rent and torn from the ceiling. 

There wasn’t anytime to breathe. No time to stop. But there was darkness creeping at the edges of his vision and he had to stop, so he waited thirty seconds for more growling, some sort of warning that he was still in danger, and when nothing made itself immediately apparent, he let his head fall. 

Taking stock of his injuries almost seemed like a waste of time. He could categorize it all under Really Bad and it would be just as helpful as anything Donnie could tell him. Speaking of, he smelled kind of like Donnie’s scrap robot parts and wires. It hovered around him in the closed space, making him feel homesick and lightheaded. He could count to twelve on his fingers for the first time in his life, though, and that was pretty cool.

After a while, his panting became labored, ragged, so he gave up on trying to catch his breath and just decided to keep moving. Shortly after this decision, he slipped in something sticky and dark. He blinked, sprawled out flat on the floor, as he struggled to remember just what the liquid he was sliding in was. Then he fought to get his elbows back under him and move forward.

It didn’t matter where he was going, anymore. He just had to keep moving. One inch at a time. 

He hesitated, his ears picking up on a noise he hadn’t heard his first time through the vents. Somewhere, something was hissing. 

Mikey snorted, flinching when the action jarred his wounds. 

Maybe Karai was slithering around in the vent, too? Because wouldn’t that be awesome? He could hop a ride on her back and then they could do the snake thing right out of there and he’d be back home in no time.

And while he’d never actually expected it to be Karai, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when he noticed the green gas floating towards him.

 _Poison_ , the part of his brain that liked to state the obvious said. Unfortunately, there were only two ways to go, and one of them had a giant tiger waiting at the end of it. Fighting a wave of nausea, Mikey sucked in as deep a breath as he could without drawing in any of the poison and kept going.

Sooner than he’d expected, he felt dizzy. No, wait, he’d already felt dizzy before, but now it was way worse, so… Dizzier? Dizziest? 

Anyway, his head was killing him, it felt like it was going to explode. And not in a good first-bite-of-pizza way.

Just when he was starting to wonder if his lungs were going to burst like balloons, when he didn’t think he could keep his mouth closed for another second, his elbow hit air. He toppled forward, following his elbow into empty space. 

Falling down the elevator shaft was exactly like being a pinball in a pinball machine. His head and shell managed to crash into just about every surface they could possibly crash into as he made his way down. Close to the bottom, he shifted, making sure he landed on his shell, and cradled the mutagen close.

When he hit the bottom, his shell cracked, ripping a scream from his throat that tore his vocal cords to shreds. He lay there, dazed, blinking white lights from his eyes. Then turned his head to the side so he could spit out a gob of something dark as ink on the floor. 

Moving his eyes, he checked on the mutagen. Somehow, none of the vials were broken. He let his head fall back with a soft, relieved sigh.

He did it.

His brothers were going to be okay.

 

His first attempt to move nearly got him screaming again. He tried to overbalance, shifted, rocked. He tried to block the pain again, to bury it, but it was too much and it kept breaking his focus. 

Still, his brothers needed him to move, and he couldn’t do that if he stayed on his back like an overturned beetle, so he propped one of elbows up, clenched his teeth, and rolled over. There was another small vent entrance not too far away. He dragged himself into it. 

It led to the basement, the exact same basement he’d entered. There wasn’t anyone in it this time, which was good because he didn’t think he’d be putting up much of a fight against a poodle at the moment. 

Feeling about as good as he looked, the turtle limped over to the nearest window and kept the mutagen in his injured arm as he used one of the few functional limbs he had left to heft himself over window sill.

Instead landing on his feet, he lost his balance, landing on his shell again. The pain was so intense that all he could do for a time was lay there and sob.

He had the mutagen, he’d faced the Shredder, but someone was dead because of him and everything hurt so much he was starting to wonder if he’d ever known what it was like to not be a screaming bundle of nerves and senses. He pulled his mask from his head, and after a moment’s thought, wrapped it around his arm. Then he tucked the mutagen in his belt so he could press one of the hands against the wound in his plastron, since it seemed to be the most serious. That left his foot uncovered. Since the wound between his toes was the oldest and probably the most trivial, Mikey figured it’d be okay even if it wasn’t covered.

That didn’t mean it wouldn’t be a mess of dirt and gravel by the time he got home, though.

With roof jumping out of the question, Mikey straightened, wobbling slightly. As far as he was concerned, he was ready to head home.

Grey clouds hid the sun from view, the one really good thing to have happened all day, since people tended to stay inside on a cloudy day and it helped him keep out of sight. 

His walk passed in spurts. Every few minutes he’d stop, blink, and realize that he’d somehow walked a block without any memory of having done so. It was disconcerting to say the least. Still, he was going the right way. And not remembering every dip and rock he stumbled on didn’t seem all that bad at the moment.

Right around when he was starting to think things were looking up, the first raindrop fell from the sky. Then the second. And the third.

Mikey shivered, his eyes locked on the manhole he knew led to the pipe that would take him home. The only problem left was the manhole cover.

He lurched forward, head feeling like it was floating above his shoulders, and tried to lift the cover with his one good arm. 

He strained against it, continuing even after he felt his wounds start to tear. It lifted about an inch before it fell back to the ground, settling right back into its former position. 

Mikey fell to his knees.

Then he was on the ground. Confused. Wondering how he’d gone from standing to laying down.

Around him, water hit the pavement with a roar, drowning out the sound of footsteps nearby. Suddenly, there was a shadow in the rain, kneeling beside him.

“He died because he wanted to help you, you know.” The words were close enough for Mikey to make out, yet hushed. Almost like they were meant more for the speaker than for the barely conscious turtle on the concrete. “He knocked me out when he saw Tiger Claw coming, locked me in the supply closet. But Tiger Claw never would have come after us if we’d just reported you to the Shredder like we were supposed to.” There came a bitter chuckle, then the sheathing of a blade. “No. I shouldn’t be blaming you. I’m the one who thought getting back at the Shredder was a good idea. I’m the one who sold him on helping you.” Something about the self-loathing in the voice’s tone sparked a memory in Mikey’s brain. He thought of Leatherhead, scared, confused, alone.

“You’re not a monster,” Mikey rasped, his voice sounding rough and sand papery in his ears. Though he wasn’t quite sure who he was saying it to or why he was saying it, he had a feeling it needed to be said. Needed to be heard.

Someone scoffed. Someone familiar and sad. It made Mikey want to apologize for some reason. “Can’t say I agree with you there,.”

There was a grunt, followed by the sound of metal scraping against concrete.

“But I can’t let you die here, either.” He threw the manhole cover to the side. “If he were here, I think he would have helped you, and since I already promised to take care of his sister, I might as well finish what we started here, too.” Grimacing, he added, “You better survive this, turtle. You’re not allowed to die. Not when-,” he yelped. “Oh… hi… Looks like Miles was right about you.”

_Miles?_

A drawn out and angry hiss issued out from below ground. “Now, don't- Listen, I know this looks bad, but I’m not the one who did this to him. And I’d give you three guesses who did, but you and I both know you only need one.”

“…Sssshredder….”

Suddenly, Mikey felt two hands push at his injured arm. Too tired to even scream, he just let himself be rolled over and dumped down the manhole, where instead of the hard landing and choking water he expected, the turtle felt himself fall into two, cool arms. They were covered in scales and surprisingly strong but, for the first time since he’d found his brothers in the alley, small and defenseless, he wasn’t afraid.

“Take care of him,” the man called down. “And don’t let me see him again.” Then the manhole cover was back in place and everything got darker. 

Now that he was finally back in the sewers, the turtle allowed what little remained of his consciousness to slip away as he curled towards a heartbeat and a gentle touch.

“…Miiiikeeey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter:) It might be a little longer than usual before the next one comes out, since graduation is this weekend and I'm moving back home, but you can bet I'll get back on here and upload the best conclusion I can think of. You guys deserve it.


	9. Chapter 9

It's muddy where he is, dark and dank like a cave. Or a sewer. The cool air dried the sweat on his skin, he felt like he could stand still and think about nothing for ages. It's too peaceful. All the things he'd been worried about felt distant now. Unimportant. He could barely even remember them.

The mud around his feet started to warm, and he shivered. Was it his imagination or was the mud stealing his warmth? He tried to look down, then forgot why he'd wanted to look down in the first place. Well, whatever the reason was, it probably didn't matter. Nothing did.

_Mikey!_

A few feet away, a light appeared. As he stared at it, not able to look away, it grew larger, brighter, closer. Actually, it was too bright. It hurt to look at. Mikey shielded his eyes, cringing away from the light's heat as the mud at his feet crept all the way to his knees.

_Come into the light!_

Why? It would hurt if he stepped into the light - How did he know that? - but it didn't hurt where he was.

There was a small, panicked voice in his head, however, that was screaming at him to start walking, and since he'd always had a soft spot for small, panicked things, he fought past the overwhelming amount of swamp fog in his brain and reached for it.

_Move, Mikey!_

He pulled at the mud, trying to drag his feet forward, then found that it clung to him like tar. He'd barely taken three steps before he needed to pause for breath. And wasn't that weird? Sure, he ate a lot of pizza, but a little wet dirt wasn't usually enough to slow him down.

_I'll try to hold it back._

With only a few more steps to go, the mud loosened, the air thinned and he finally felt like he could breathe again. He was right outside the light now; it felt like standing in front of an open oven. The longer he stood, the hotter the air around him grew. The mud around his legs dried, cracked, and flaked off, leaving him free to move in whichever direction he chose.

He could move back into the shadows, if he wanted. The small voice warned him, though, that if he chose to go back, there wouldn't be another light coming to help him out. More than likely, he'd never see any light again.

He didn't want to be alone in the dark.

_Your brothers need you, Mikey. Come back._

And that was all the voice needed to say. As long as his brothers needed him, it didn't matter if he was lost in the middle of nowhere or hanging off the edge of the world, he'd come running.

Decision made, Mikey grit his teeth, bracing himself for whatever the light had to throw at him, and stepped forward.

 

"Hey, Apes, I think it's working, He's waking up!" Mikey groaned, wishing he'd just stayed asleep. Pain, sharp and fast, spread through his plastron and arm like venom. He'd guessed that waking up wasn't going to be a pleasant experience, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to be bragging about being right anytime ever.

Even though it felt like someone had dropped sand bags on his eyelids, he pried them open, hissing softly when the light hit his retinas. It was like having an ice pick driven through his skull. He reached up with his uninjured arm to shield his eyes, then realized with a start that something small and scaly was climbing his arm.

Slowly the glowing white spots in his vision faded, letting him see little turtle perched on his shoulder, concern written all over its face as it pawed at his cheek while making soft, little distressed sounds. Two more weights in his lap alerted him to other turtles. They were moving about in his lap, carefully avoiding agitating his injuries as they moved.

The one on his shoulder had a familar purple bandanna wrapped around his plastron.

_Donnie?_

The turtle stroking the blood-stained bandage around his arm had a similarly crimson colored bandanna wrapped around him.

_Raph?_

And the blue-eyed turtle leaning against his plastron, he would recognize the big brother worry he saw in them, anywhere.

Mikey started to smile at his brothers, a reassurance already on his lips, when the smile froze on his face. He turned stiffly to the side so he could Casey helping April out of her chair. She looked pale, exhausted, but relieved to see he was awake.

She leaned forward to touch his hand, her lips quirked slightly. He didn't miss the hurt that shone in her eyes when he pulled away.

April let her hand fall to her side as she tried to compose herself, straightening and clearing her throat, because if she didn't try to be strong she might just start crying, and that wouldn't help anyone. "Hey, Mikey," She said, keeping her voice low. She'd heard that people with concussions were really sensitive to loud noises and bright lights, so it made sense that turtles with concussions would have similar problems.

Well, she hadn't been positive about the concussion until she'd tried to connect with Mikey's consciousness and found a thick fog in her way. It'd taken everything in her to make her voice travel far enough to reach him. Mentally, she'd practically screamed her lungs out just so Mikey could hear a whisper. But it'd been worth it. He was awake, and they were going to keep him that way.

Unfortunately, neither April nor Casey were experts at applying First Aid. The bandages around his wounds were loose and amateurishly wrapped - as Donnie had managed to point out a way that was simultaneously cute and infuriating - they'd had to wrap duck tape around the wounds on his plastron. They did know enough to put a couple pillows under Mikey's head, foot, and arm, though. When it came to stopping a wound from bleeding, Casey had had enough bloody noses to know that gravity was your best friend.

Despite their best efforts, they'd realized shortly after they'd finishing bandaging him that Mikey's foot was starting to feel warm to the touch. They'd tried flushing the wound out with water and had definitely gotten a majority of the debris out of it, but they'd found Mikey lying in the sewer. Warm water and cool rags were probably just too little, too late. Which helped explain why the place where she'd found him was so burning hot and chillingly cold. And sad. He didn't belong in such a cold, wet, lonely place. And she had a feeling she'd almost lost him there.

Mikey's eyes burned as he worked to form some sort of response that could possibly contain the maelstrom of fear, pain, and pulsing rage he was feeling. Meanwhile, Casey's gaze flitted from April, who still looked unsteady on her feet, to Mikey, unsure which one needed him more and uncertain of what he could do to help. When Mike finally managed to string together a full and coherent sentence, he croaked, "Why?"

April furrowed her brow, bemused, as she tried to guess his meaning.

"Why _what_ , Mikey?" Casey prompted.

Lipping his lips, Mikey tried again. "Why are they still like this?" The turtles climbing over his body stilled, almost like they were holding their breath. Even if they hadn't, the panic crossing the faces of his two human friends would have been a dead give-away that something was up. "Guys," he asked tentatively, fearing the answer, "where's the mutagen?"

Casey stepped up. "Listen, Mikey, do you remember how you got here?" Mikey shook his head. Casey laughed weakly, "Right, well, you were just kind of dropped by the door like a big, green, turtle-shaped… um…" There was a slight pause as the gears in his head grinded against each other. Behind him, April put her face in her hands. "Well, obviously, you were turtle-shaped. No, wait, what I meant to say was… " He laid a comforting hand on Mikey's arm and solemnly finished, "…you're a turtle, little bro."

"April," Mikey said tightly, "my brain kind of wants to kill my ears right now. Could you please use that brain Donnie likes so much," the little turtle next to his ear let out a surprised yelp, making him flinch, "and explain to me what happened?" Donnie nudged his cheek, cooing apologetically. Mike felt at least some of the tension drain out of him as he nudged him back. "It's fine, bro. I just overreacted."

Casey nodded to show that he seconded everything Mikey just said. Today wasn't a good day for his mouth, or words. Or words that came out of his mouth.

If he wasn't absolutely certain April and Mikey needed him to be there, he would actually consider standing quietly in the corner to be a viable plan of action. Unfortunately, it didn't matter if being sensitive or reassuring wasn't really his thing. If his friends needed him to be, he'd keep trying. He'd get it right.

While April took a deep breath, Casey leaned over to squeeze Mikey's shoulder. At first, his little buddy regarded him with a measure of weariness, then as it became clear that Casey wasn't going to try to say anything, he sagged against his arm, allowing Casey to take on some of his weight. Encouraged, Casey wrapped an arm around his back, wanting to support as much of him as he could. "I've got you, little bro." And the small, tired smile it earned him was even better than he'd hoped for.

"Thanks, Case."

Somehow, this kid- this bashed up and bruised kid could still manage a smile for him, even though all he'd done was babysit while his best friend's little brother did all the hard stuff. Casey should have gone after him. He should have stormed out, hockey sticks blazing, the second April told him Mikey had gone to the Foot Clan.

He wanted to apologize, he almost did, but he swallowed it down. He swallowed the rotten feeling, refusing to give it voice, so it'd soak into his bones, a constant reminder so he never let something like this happen to one of his friends again. And if there's nothing he can do to stop it, then at least he'd be sitting in the bed next to them.

He glanced down at the turtle in red, cringing slightly when he notices the sparks of anger in his green eyes. It kind of figured that Raph would be thinking along the same lines as him, especially since he'd apparently been trying to tell them that Mikey was in trouble almost the entire time.

He didn't think Raph would be mad at him forever, but if something had happened to his little sister while he'd been literally banging his head bloody trying to get to her, he wasn't so sure he'd be able to forgive the person who stood in his way.

Movement to the left of Raph caught his eye. Leo was looking up at him, head tilted, approval shining in his eyes as he nodded towards the arm Casey had around their little brother.

The warmth blooming in Casey's stomach churned at the realization that Leo might have been trying to assure himself that Mikey would in good hands even if his brothers never got their mutagen back. Even without his mutagen, Leo would want to prepare for the worst-case scenario and make the best of it. It was just the way he was.

And that, Casey told himself, didn't mean he was giving up.

Wanting to distract himself, he let his shoulders slump a little to ease off some of the tension building in his back, and turned to see April standing, pale and open-mouthed, her hands clenched at her sides as she shook. She jumped when she realized he was staring at her, hands flying to her cheeks to scrub away the errant tears. For the most part, Mikey was patient, silent, as he waited. Deep, lines of pain stood out against his pallid skin as he tried to reach out a comforting hand, only to realize with frustration that his arm twinged when he so much as tried to move a finger.

For someone who loved to see the people he loved happy, it was an entirely different agony to see the people he cared about beating themselves up while he couldn't do anything about it.

Face dry, April reached out to squeeze Mikey's forearm as she said, "We found you by the door, Mikey. There was a knock, but by the time we got it open, you were the only one there."

That answered maybe one question, but it didn't answer the most important one.

"Where's the mutagen, April?" And he's looking at her with so much hope, like he still thinks this could be a prank and any second now she's going to pull the mutagen out from behind her back and say, _Got ya._

It's a fragile hope, no stronger than a house of cards, yet it took everything in her not to look away as she tells him, "There was no mutagen, Mikey. Only you."

"You mean," Mikey's smile faltered as he processed her words, eyes growing wide with horror, " you mean… I _failed_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought I was going to get further than I did - guess I jumped the gun when I guessed it was going to end this chapter - but things will definitely start heading towards a resolution in the next one. 
> 
> It's gonna be a long chapter of everybody just reacting, venting, and bouncing off each other until things start to settle down... which pretty much means I'm going to spend much of next chapter banging my head against my keyboard.


	10. Chapter 10

For a moment, he just felt kind of… empty. Like someone had scooped out all his insides. It was during those few seconds of dullness that he took the time to gently remove Donatello from his shoulder. Casey, his arm pressed firmly against Michelangelo's back, could feel the way his muscles bunched, as though they were tensing up for a fight, could feel the heat pouring off his skin, so only April wondered if maybe Michelangelo was taking the news better than they'd expected.

Once the shock wore off, Mikey's lungs surged with a huge gulp of air as he fought to tear himself from Casey's grasp. "Let go of me, Casey!" Something warm oozed down his plastron as he twisted his entire body in an attempt to throw himself off the bed. "I have to go find the mutagen! I must have dropped it on the way or something."

Casey wrapped his other arm around him and squeezed. "We already looked, Mikey! We searched all the way to the streets, but we'll look again, okay? We'll fix this. But you can't do this, man! You're gonna hu- Urk!" The only warning he got before his feet left the ground was the white blankness of Mikey's eyes as his head rolled back and his body arched, a strangled gurgling issuing from the turtle's mouth.

April screamed, rushing to try to break his fall as he slammed into her, knocking her over.

"You okay, Casey?"

"He _threw_ me?!" The teenaged vigilante wasn't sure if he was more impressed or annoyed that his little buddy had just launched him across the room one-handed. Obviously, Mike wasn't thinking straight. Pushing his bangs away, Casey caught the apologetic frown on Michelangelo's face as he slid off the bed, torn between helping his friends and heading for the door.

Stuck in a moment of indecision, Michelangelo sagged against the bed, his eyes darting unhappily to his brothers as they pawed at the Saran wrap on his shell and cried for him to get back into the bed. Speaking of Saran wrap, he was going to have to ask his human friends about that later. Finally, he narrowed his eyes, set his jaw, and said, "I promised I would fix this."

April yanked a hand out from under the body on top of her, accidentally elbowing Casey in the face as she shouted, "And we will. But you don't have to do it alone, Mikey. Let me and Casey help you!"

After a small coughing fit, Mikey replied, "No. The last person I asked to help me died. And it was my fault! I never should have asked for help, I should have done this on my own, but I didn't! Because…" His blue eyes, unfocused and fever-bright, welled up until the tears overflowed, sliding down his cheeks as he tried to force out the words, " Because I mess up everything! Raph was right!" Behind his shell, a surprised squawk, filled with equal parts shock and dismay, issued from the red-banded turtle. Casey had a gut feeling that Raph _really_ wished he could talk right then. Normally, Mikey would have caught onto his brother's distress himself and stopped, but it felt like a lid had been removed and everything in him that'd been suppressed and simmering was boiling over so fast he couldn't stop if he'd wanted to. "I'm just a dumb screw-up!" Breathing hard with the effort saying so many words had taken out of him, Mikey pulled his hand away from the bed, walked two steps towards the door, and stumbled.

Casey was on his feet in a blink, rushing forward to catch the turtle before he came crashing to the ground, wrapped his arms around his middle and gently lowered him to the floor, murmuring, "I meant what I said before, little bro. I've got you. So don't talk like you have to do this alone when me and April are your siblings, too."

He'd pretty much already adopted Mikey as his second younger sibling, so he knew he wasn't just trying to make his little buddy feel better when he said that. Sure, he wasn't a full-blown ninja yet and he could never replace Raph, but there were things only he could do. Like be the best big brother ever!

Casey felt Raph's eyes on him and mentally revised that last bit to 'second best big brother ever'. Another pair of eyes joined the first and he had to mentally revise his 'best big brother' ranking again, all the while seriously beginning to wonder if losing their mutagen had somehow made Mikey's older brothers psychic.

A muffled sniffle drew his eyes back to the kid in his arms, and his heart ached to see that Mikey had thrown an arm over his eyes as he continued to cry, voice catching and stuttering as he shook. It was around that time that April kneeled beside him, gentling stroking his tears away. "It's okay, Mikey," she said quietly. "We'll fix this."

"Michelangelo?" Jumpy after hours of waiting for Mikey to wake up and ready to fight if they had to, Casey and April spun to face whatever new threat had the misfortune of picking that moment to threaten their friend, only to see Master Splinter standing in the doorway. His clothes and fur were soaked, his red eyes blazing as he took in the sight of his youngest son hurt and sobbing on the ground. "What has happened here?"

Three vials of glowing blue fluid caught April's eye and she shouted, "Master Splinter, you have the mutagen!" The shout made Mikey feel as though his head had been impaled with a spike and he whimpered, too tired to continue sobbing. April looked dowen regretfully, then pulled Master Splinter over so she could explain all that had happened since he and his sons were separated.

While she spoke, he placed a clawed hand on Mikey's forehead, frowning at the warmth he could feel radiating under his palm.

Mikey called out for him.

"Yes, my son?"

Mikey shifted, trying to find his sensei in the blur of colors and shapes his vision had become. Once he was certain that he was at least looking in the right general direction, he mumbled, "I'm sorry I'm not dead, sensei." Seeing the fall in Master Splinter's expression, Casey quickly cut in with, " Wait, hold up, I don't think he meant to say it like that, Master Splinter!" Scratching his head, he added, "I mean, there's probably a comma or a period missing somewhere. Plus, his brains all addled, so…"

Master Splinter chuckled. "You are correct, Casey. I believe I know what it is he speaks of, and you can be sure that we will be discussing his actions later but, for now," looking down at his son with a bottomless well of love and pride, Master Splinter tenderly closed his eyes, "go to sleep my son. You've done well."

"Thank you, sensei," Michelangelo murmured. And the darkness that overtook him this time wasn't cold or frightening. It wrapped himself around him like a pair of strong, comforting arms, and he sank into it gratefully, sure that everything was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as it could be, but at least you know Master Splinter is okay now. Something must have been written too vaguely somewhere, though, because Tiger Claw threw him out onto the streets after he saw Mikey "die." Master Splinter hasn't been in the Shredder's care for a while, but he did remain incapacitated for a time. Guess I'll have to clear that up next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

_He had loved Tang Shen as though she were the sun as it shined on the world and he were the moon, so in love that he glowed in her light. Flowers smelled sweeter when he smelled them with her, since she always stuck her nose in them, laughing as though she were seeing them for the first time. When he glared at the ground as he walked home to her, weary from another argument with his brother, she would stand on their porch and point up at the stars, exclaiming, 'Look, dear, even the shyest have come out to meet you this night' and how could he not smile? When he lost her, when she was taken from him, it was all he could do not to join her. But he knew that if they met too soon in the afterlife, she would scold him._

_No._

_He would not dishonor her memory by taking his own life, yet how could he be expected to live without her? In an effort to fill some of the emptiness she had left behind, he resolved to buy a pet. Just one. And he would care for it, feed it, and, in turn, it would be something waiting for him to return, something he needed to live for because it depended on him for its survival._

_However, when he looked at the first turtle, a stern looking terrapin that appeared slightly calmer than his brothers, he couldn't help but wonder if it would get lonely if he separated him from the other turtles._

_Perhaps, he should get two. The second turtle, thicker and more aggressive, could be the first turtle's playmate. Yes, two turtles. That was a good number._

_But what about the turtle with the gap in his teeth? Who would take him in? What if others found the small imperfection off-putting and he never found a home?_

_Surely, three turtles was a manageable number. He could take of three. But he wasn't going to purchase anymore. Three turtles was more than enough and nothing was going to change his mind._

_Decision made, Hamato Yoshi stood to tell the man standing behind the register that he would to buy three turtles when, out of the corner of his eye, he observed a piece of lettuce laying in the middle of the tank twitch. Fascinated, he stilled, watching in wonder as a small head poked out from under the leaf and yawned. The baby turtle was smaller than his brothers, so small that Yoshi had nearly missed him. How could something so small possibly survive alone? The baby turtle swung its head to face him, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity, and smiled at him. Until that moment, Yoshi hadn't even known turtles could smile._

_Four turtles._

_He was leaving with four turtles._

 

_Michelangelo._

_That was what he'd named his youngest son._

_Although his beloved's eyes had been brown, he saw her in his youngest- in the way he laughed at the slightest provocation, the way he loved to tease, the way he saw the best in others, just as Tang Shen had always seen the best in him. He saw her wit in Donatello, her fiery passion in Raphael, and though he saw much of himself in his oldest, he felt her tranquility in him, a vibrancy that thrived even in stillness._

_He'd thought losing his sons would be like having her ripped from his life all over again, but he'd been wrong._

_It was so much worse than that._

_Before his eyes, his youngest had been wounded by the very same monster who'd taken Tang Shen from him, and every step the tiger carrying him took only increased the distance between him and his dying son._

_It was an agony he'd never known, could never have imagined._

_And yet his body betrayed him. It refused to move. Though he begged it to, his thoughts screaming as he willed his fingers to perform even the slightest twitch, pleaded with his legs to move, move, move._

_Kick, scratch, claw, tear._

_Kill._

_Then he was thrown outside, into a dumpster. Over and over, he heard his sons words, 'We're his pets. That's all we've ever been.' Had his son died believing he did not love him?_

_If so, there was nothing he could ever do to atone._

_And if the Shredder had spoken the truth, if all his sons where truly gone, how could he continue living? Would he do as the Shredder wished and live in despair, waiting for the day Oroku Saki felt the urge to plunge a blade through his heart and end his misery? Or would he disappoint Tang Shen and end it himself?_

_Never._

_If he were going to die, he would not be going alone. On the love he had for his sons, he swore that before the day was done, the Shredder would know the wrath of a man who had nothing to lose._

_And they would finish things as they had begun._

_In flames._

_It was with this festering in his mind that Splinter passed the hours as he waited for his body to move again. In one hour, he could move his head, hands, and most of his legs. In two, he had enough motion to crawl out of the dumpster, legs wobbling, still weak from the paralytic, and he collapsed on the concrete, the rain pouring on top of him and soaking his fur as he lifted himself out of the muddy puddle he'd fallen into._

_Deep in his heart, he did not believe his son to be dead. Michelangelo was clever, his tongue a weapon, and though he'd looked apologetic as he'd watched the tiger drag him away, he hadn't looked hopeless. Nor had he looked resigned to death._

_However, Splinter could not imagine that his son had planned to impaled upon the Shredder's blades and the honest surprise and pain he'd seen in his son's eyes filled him with a rage that burned whatever was left of the paralytic out of his body. As he stalked over to the Foot Clan's entrance, he gave himself over to the rage entirely. What use was there for compassion or mercy if they couldn't save his sons? If the Shredder wanted to strip him of everything except despair and hate, then he'd show his former brother just how hot his hate could burn._

_A snarl on his lips, Splinter rose a clawed hand, ready to pound on the Foot's metal doors until someone was foolish enough to let him in, his mind already providing him with images of the building's layout and the positions of the Foot he'd observed during his capture and release. His first priority would be Michelangelo. He had to confirm whether or not he was still breathing, because the answer to that question would determine everything._

_Behind him, scales slid across the pavement. "Faaatheeer?"_

_Splinter froze, the red haze in his mind fading as he remembered his daughter, Tang Shen's child, the child they'd had together. Stubborn. Willful. Proud. Good._

_"Karai?" As he turned to face her, he had to fight against the urge to avert his eyes. Did she know he'd been intending to face the Shredder? Did she know how close he'd come to leaving her alone? How could he, in his rage, have forgotten his dearest daughter?_

_He saw a deep sadness in the slitted eyes of his transformed Miwa, but there was an understanding there he hadn't dared to hope for. Then, to his astonishment, her lips quirked; there was a small, half-smile on her face as she said, "Father, Mikey is alive. He's sssafe."_

_"And his brothers?" Master Splinter asked, barely daring to believe. In answer, his daughter held out three vials of mutagen._

_"They need you, Father." He glanced down at his foot, noticing for the first time that it'd swelled to about twice its size and seemed to have gained its own heart in the time he hadn't been paying attention to it. Such an injury would not keep him from reuniting with his sons, but…_

_He looked at Karai hopefully._

_She noticed his injury, hesitated, then held out a scaled arm for him to hold onto, though not before warning him that she might attempt to eat him on their way back to the lair._

_In response, Splinter tilted his head, suppressing a smile. "I believe you will find me difficult to swallow, my daughter."_


	12. Chapter 12

It was like waking up from a dream, except Michelangelo couldn't remember just when he'd fallen asleep, and if you couldn't remember falling asleep, then how did could you be sure that you were awake?

So when he cracked his eyes open to see Donnie's pinched face hovering over him like a concerned chicken, he wasn't sure if he should laugh or curl into a ball. Though part of him was still convinced that he'd never left the bottom of the elevator shaft, that every happy moment he was experiencing was something he'd eventually have to wake up from, he was so relieved to see his brother back to normal again that he tried to throw his arms around him. "Donnie!"

Except _ow!_

One arm responded faithfully, the other was dirty traitor that twitched uselessly in his sling and he couldn't even voice his displeasure properly because he'd apparently been gargling nails in his throat. It felt dry, scratchy, and Donnie, as always, guessed the problem immediately.

Donnie chuckled, his grim expression melting as some of the tension drained out of him, then he held out a cup of water. "It's nice to see you finally decided to join us, Mikey." After accepting the cup with a grateful nod, Mikey sipped from it. The second it hit his mouth he felt a sting, but it was a good, clean sting, so he kept tipping the cup until he'd drained every last drop of water.

Once he'd finished, Donnie took the cup away, saying, "So, how are you feeling?"

Mikey swallowed, hoping speaking would hurt less now that he'd had something to drink, and said, "Fine, D. It really only hurts when I breathe."

Donnie's smile froze. "Well, that's to be expected," he started, and Mikey braced himself, "when you TRY TO FIGHT THE SHREDDER BY YOURSELF!" The shouting put a pained grimace on Mikey's face, and Donatello, seeing the strain he'd inadvertently caused, immediately regretted raising his voice. "Sorry, Mikey. I didn't mean to-"

Mikey waved a hand, "No worries, D. I get it." His voice broke over the last few words, making him sound wispy. Sick. Weak. Almost absently, a hand went to his throat, thinking of Leo, of the way he'd woken up with a voice that wasn't quite his and how, in the first few weeks, he'd sometimes hesitated to follow his brother's orders because it didn't sound like they were coming from Leo. In some ways, Mikey knew he would always wait to hear the voice he'd grown up with, the one that used to calm him during thunderstorms, but that was a voice he was likely never going to hear again. And that was okay. He still had Leo, after all. And they'd gotten used to his new voice pretty quickly. So, even if he missed Leo's old voice sometimes, it was okay.

But Mikey liked his own voice. It was high, light, and it fit him. Still, if it turned out it had changed, he knew he'd do his best not to make a big fuss about it because Leo had already dealt with losing his old voice and complaining would only make him feel bad. Still, he couldn't hide the barely suppressed panic in his expression, so when Donnie saw his hand move towards his throat, he had a fairly good idea of what the problem was. It was something he'd thought about himself, after all.

Mikey saw Donnie look uncertainly at something or someone over his head before he saying, "Don't worry about your voice, Mikey. It's just a little strained. It'll be back to normal in a day or two," staring down at his younger brother, he continued in a sterner tone of voice, "but that's only if you give it some time to rest."

The comment dredged a groan out from the depths of Michelangelo's soul. Face contorted with displeasure, Mikey finally noticed the fresh bandages around his plastron, arm, and foot. Speaking of his foot, the was a flush that crept from under his bandaged toes to his ankle. Now, Mikey wasn't a doctor or a genius by any means, but even he knew that his foot wasn't supposed to change colors.

"I stitched up the worst of your injuries," Donnie explained, "but you were already running a fever by the time I was able to get my hands on some peroxide. It's normal procedure to keep someone with a suspected concussion awake for 24-48 hours, but April had already fended off the worst of it," he tensed, his mind bringing him back to the moment April told him his little brother had almost fallen into a coma, "and I didn't want to put you through anymore pain if I could help it. Luckily, your fever broke and you should be able to walk on your foot without any discomfort in a little less than a week." This was starting to sound pretty good, actually. A week wasn't too bad. It wasn't, say, two days, but even he could- "But taking into consideration the multiple puncture wounds you've received to your plastron and left arm…well, you should definitely keep your arm in a sling as much as possible so the muscle can heal, and… um…" He faltered, closing his mouth on the words he couldn't bring himself to say.

"Well, sure, okay," Mikey said, ready to agree to anything as long as it meant he could still go out patrolling with his brothers, since it was him begging Leo to let him stay home that'd started the whole mess, "I mean, it's not like I can't use my nunchucks one-handed, right?" Donnie wrung his hands, fidgeting the way he always did when he was nervous or guilty about something. Mikey tried to catch his eye; it seemed like his older brother was having trouble looking at him. "Um, D? Your silence is freaking me out."

There was the sound of two bodies shifting by the doorway, then Leo and Raph appeared beside him. Leo squeezed Donnie's shoulder. "What Donnie's trying to say is we think you should sit out on patrols for a few weeks."

Mikey's jaw dropped in disbelief, his stomach rolling as though he'd been kicked. "You guys don't want me on the team, anymore?"

"Of course we do, stupid." Raph replied immediately. "It's because we want you with us that we need you to rest. Out there, we fight guys that take advantage of the slightest weakness. And they'll flock to you like sharks in the water the second they see you're injured."

"You need to give your body a chance to heal, Mikey," added Leo, speaking from experience. "And that isn't going to happen if you're pushing yourself to keep up with us."

"So now you're saying I can't keep up with you?"

"Mikey," Donnie tried to say as gently as he could, "right now, you can't keep up with us. I know you haven't seen it, but your shell's nearly split in two. It's raw, Mikey. And if you fall on it again or if something hits it, it's not going to protect you. Now, I'm going to try to fill the crack with fiberglass and epoxy, or something even stronger if I can, but it'll take a little while to set and longer for your shell to grow around it. But if you get into a fight with your shell the way it is now, an injury or a blow that you'd usually shake off could kill you. It'd be like," similes and metaphors were handily discarded as he searched for something his little brother would under stand, "it'd be like leaping into battle without armor or, uh, skin. Your internal organs would be completely exposed."

Gritting his teeth, Mikey tried to position his right hand under him so he could sit,up only to feel a light sting when he tugged his free hand. After a cry of frustration, he twisted his body a little so he could see his right side, finally catching a glimpse of the IV sticking out of one of his veins and the clear bags hanging over his head. "Donnie?"

Grateful for the change in topic, however temporary, Donatello explained that the bags contained antibiotics for his infection. And now that Mikey was thinking about it, his head and foot weren't throbbing nearly as much as he vaguely remembered they'd been doing. The other two bags contained a saline solution to help him replenish the blood and fluids he'd lost and the last bag was a steady drip of morphine.

The urge to thank Donnie for the morphine engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the urge to stay mad at him. In the end, he settled for a grumbled, "Thanks, D." The guilty slump on his older brother's shoulders became a little less prominent after he heard Mikey's grudging thank you.. It shouldn't have been there at all, since none of this was his fault, but Mikey wasn't feeling gracious enough to tell him .

"So, that's it? You're just going to leave me behind? What if something bad happens again?"

"Oh, come on, Mikey," Raph said. "It's not like it makes much of a difference whether you're there or not." The words were out before he could stop them; regret immediately bleeding into his features as the utter betrayal on Mikey's face became apparent.

"I went through so much to save you guys," he choked out, clenching his fists and refusing to cry. "Someone died. Someone who could have been an ally or a friend and he died because I wasn't there to save him because I was busy trying to save you…and now you're saying you don't need me?"

Leo reached for his brother, "Mikey-"

"No!" Mikey jerked away, pressing into his pillow and blankets as far as he could. "I thought it was my fault, Leo. Because I decided to go skateboarding when I should have had your backs. This whole time I was convinced I should have been there, that I could have done something so none of this ever happened, but now you're saying you don't need me? That even if I'd been there, nothing would have changed?" The anger fueling him quickly faded, leaving him feeling exhausted and hollow. He sank against his pillows, barely able to keep his eyes open. "Could you guys just go?" Struggling to smile since he didn't want his reunion with his brothers to end on such a bad note, he added, "I'm, um... Even if you guys, you know, don't need me, I'm glad you're back to normal."

"Mikey, you don't understand," Leo reached again for his brother, "That isn't what we-"

"As am I," Master Splinter interrupted as he entered the room. They'd moved Michelangelo from the makeshift bed in the living room to his own room, and though much of his toys and empty pizza boxes had been picked up to make bustling back and forth easier for Donatello, there were still some lost, sentient beings stuck in the carpet that Master Splinter did his best to avoid stepping on.

Leo felt some of the tension leave him when he saw his sensei enter the room, believing that their sensei would fix things as he always did. Then he saw the stark terror in his baby brother's blue eyes.

Nodding to each of them, Master Splinter smiled. "Could you boys give Michelangelo and I a few minutes alone? There are some things I'd like to discuss with him." When none of Mikey's brothers made any attempt to leave the room beyond shifting slightly, Master Splinter clasped his hands behind his back and raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps I was unclear. You see, that was not a request."

"But sensei," Donnie said, "I'm his doctor."

"I'm sure your brother will survive a few minutes without your assistance, Donatello," Master Splinter assured him.

"Only barely," Donatello replied, probably louder than he'd intended. In lieu of sticking his tongue out, Mikey pressed his lips into the fiercest indignant pout he could muster, and fired it in Donnie's direction. Upon seeing it, Donnie shrugged in the closest approximation of an apology he could manage at the time.

Abruptly, Mikey remembered that his brothers hadn't actually slept since the day before. It was the way Donnie swayed as he pressed his thumbs against his eyes that jogged his memory. Since he felt a little bad now about the way he'd snapped at his brothers, Mikey said, "It's okay, Don. You can go." It wasn't okay, though. He'd known he'd have to talk with Master Splinter about what he'd said but he'd just woken up and he was scared. It didn't matter what the Shredder or Tiger Claw or Xever said to him because Mikey didn't love them, but Master Splinter… if he was disappointed in him or if he told him… if he told him that the little act he'd pulled in front of the Shredder was cruel, or befitting of a member of the Foot, or that he'd failed-

Stifling a groan, Mikey realized he was starting to get dizzy. Six concerned faces turned to look at him, which was a little concerning because he definitely didn't have six brothers. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, slowly, and when he opened his eyes, three brothers stared back at him, Don looking like he was about ready to rip himself in half so he could obey Master Splinter _and_ stay with his little brother. And Mikey totally got what he was going through. If it were any of his brothers lying there, he'd hate to leave them. He'd hated every second he'd spent away from Leo after the Shredder put him in a coma. It was probably the worst month of his life.

So, he got why Raph hesitated, why Leo looked outright mutinous, why Donnie stood still as a scarecrow even though he was dead on his feet, but they needed to leave."Look, I just need some time alone with sensei, okay?" _Don't leave me._ "I'll be fine." _I'm scared._

Raph clapped his hands. "Alright, Mikey, if you say so. Come on, Donnie." He walked out the door, slowly followed by a Donatello who walked like a zombie and hung his head like a rejected puppy. Leo, on the other hand, didn't budge.

He crossed his arms. "Mikey's scared, sensei." Glancing sternly at his little brother to preemptively silence any protests, he continued, "I'm not leaving until I know why." Relief flooded Michelangelo's body at his words, guilt following quickly on its heels. Yes, he hadn't wanted to be left alone with Master Splinter just yet. No, he hadn't wanted Leo to fight with sensei over him. It wasn't even on the list of things he wanted, and he had a very long list.

"Leonardo," Master Splinter stroked the long white hairs at his chin, "are you directly disobeying an order from your sensei?"

Then Raph burst into the room, picked Leo up, and headed for the door, saying, "Nope. No, he's not sensei. In fact, he was just leaving. Say bye, Leo."

"Raph? Wha-" Whatever Leo meant to say was cut off as the door slammed shut behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

Usually, Raph would've been thrilled to get his body back, but with the body came the ability to think about more than one thing at a time and there were a few things he'd rather not think about that wouldn't leave him alone.

_Mikey had his puppy eyes on full-throttle as he pleaded with Leo, "Come on, Leo. We haven't had one day off in weeks. Can't I just stay home this once?"_

_Honestly, you'd think after years of this tactic he'd become immune to it, but Raph was only catching the edge of his brother's pleading baby blues and he still felt himself give. After sighing for appearance's sake, he wrapped an arm around their fearless leader and grinned, "Yeah, Leo. Let's let him stay home this once. He'll get some time off from patrolling and we'll get some time off from him. I'm really not seeing any downsides to this."_

_"Hey!" Mikey pouted at him, though the pout quickly vanished when Leo, still looking pretty conflicted, agreed._

So, yeah, Mike not being with them? That was kind of on him. Hearing his little brother quote him as calling him a screw-up was also not his finest hour. So when he'd finally gotten a chance to speak with Mikey again, he was a little nervous. He had a lot to make up for and no idea how to go about it.

And, to be honest, the whole thing about Mike not really making a difference had sounded a lot better in his head. All he'd meant to say was, whether Mikey was there or not, chances were good they'd still have had their mutagen stolen. No difference there, see? That was what he'd meant to say, so it'd taken him a moment to even understand why his little brother had looked at him as though he'd just told him Crognard was canceled.

That was why he'd been so relieved when Master Splinter came in. He knew sensei would fix things the way he always did, but then Mikey started acting like he was about ready to jump out of his skin and Leo didn't want to leave...

Now, he'd been watching Leo hover over Donnie's shoulder for hours, and when he wasn't doing that, he was hovering over sensei, and when he wasn't doing that, he was staring moodily at his katanas. And that last one was a little worrying, yeah, but this was Leo they were talking about. Worrying about him was like worrying about whether or not the sun was going to rise in the morning. So Raph put the niggling concern at the very back of his head, only for it to come rearing back when he heard Captain Kiss-Up decide to play rebel with sensei.

After opening the rice paper door with his foot, Raph dumped his older brother in the dojo, letting him land on his butt. "What the shell was that, Leo? I'm worried about Mikey, too, but since when do we not trust sensei?"

Leo, still more bemused than offended at being picked up and dropped in the dojo, glanced at the carpets around them as he slowly climbed to his feet, remembering all the evenings he'd spent meditating with his father. "It's not like that," he said slowly. "Of course, I trust him."

"You sure, Leo?" Raph scoffed. "'Cuz you could've fooled me. Last I checked, we don't pick fights with people we trust."

"Really, Raphael?" Leo whipped to face him. "That's rich coming from you." There was enough venom in the retort that Raph briefly wondered if he should just leave, let Leo sulk by himself if he wanted to.

Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and replied, "Oh, are we doing full names, now? 'Cuz I know yours, too, Leo-lame-o." And maybe antagonizing him wasn't a good idea, but old habits died hard and, as far as Raph was concerned, the best way to deal with poison was to spew it out. Keep it in too long and it'd taint everything you touched.

"Is this just a joke to you?" Leo shouted, making Raph take a few steps back. "The Shredder attacked our family _again_. This has to be the last time. He needs to pay for what he's done."

"I'm not saying he doesn't, Leo. But Mikey needs us here, right now. Not off trying to take on the biggest bad guy we've ever faced with a turtle down."

"We can take him." And there was something in the way he said it. Intense. Sure. Cold. With no room for doubt, fear, or mercy; all qualities that Leo himself had shown Raph were essential in a leader.

"Without Mikey? Sure, Leo," Raph replied sarcastically, "that'll convince him he's a vital member of the team. Let's do that." Lowering his voice from nearly shouting to only a few decibels above a whisper, he continued, "This all started because we left him alone. We _can't_ do that to him again."

There was a flinch, making Raph think for a moment that he might have gotten through to him, then Leo hardened. "My little brother's safety is more important than his happiness. And if you're too scared to come, I can face the Shredder on my own." He moved to leave, growling when Raph sidestepped in front of him. "Move, Raph."

"Man, are you listening to yourself, right now? Do you realize who you sound like? You're talking about protecting him whether he likes it or not and that's exactly what the Shredder wants to do with Karai!"

There was a flash and Raph was slammed against the wall, a forearm pressed firmly against his windpipe.

Gulping down as much air as he could, Raph looked up to see white eyes glowing out of a blue mask. It was an intimidation tactic they used all the time. On _criminals._ Bucking against his brother's arm, Raph yelled, "Stop treating me like I'm your enemy, Leo!" He kicked his brother's knee, feeling crummy about hurting him even as he used the momentary distraction to reclaim the advantage. He switched their positions, pinning Leo against the wall, hoping he could somehow get him to calm down. "I'm on your side!"

"Then start acting like it!"

Since Raph wasn't using his full strength to pin Leo, he was able to break free and tackle him. They rolled on the ground, trading punches, until Raph stilled long enough to get his feet under Leo's plastron, ready to kick him off so he could try the whole 'talking him down' thing again. Second times the charm, right? Then he felt the cold sting of metal against his throat and stilled, survival instincts finally kicking in. There were two blades crossed over his neck, and above him, Leo was looking straight through him, chest heaving as though he'd just gone ten rounds with the Shredder, and _won_.

That was when Raph realized this had never just been about the Shredder's most recent attempt to exterminate their family, it was about all of it: Karai's mutation, the months when they thought Master Splinter was dead, Leo's coma. Leo had something to prove and Raph wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him or punch him for it. Though the thought of punching him was a tempting one, it promised a very short future, so Raph crossed out that brilliant plan, met his brother's eyes, and said quietly, "Leo, I've been fighting you this whole time. Who've _you_ been fighting?"

At the sound of his voice, Leo froze. There was a hard blink and when he opened his eyes, the blue was back. Shaking his head in denial of what he'd done- of what he'd almost done - Leo threw his swords away and backed off. "Raph? Ah man, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean- I could've _killed_ you."

Despite rubbing a hand across his throat to make sure it was still in one piece, Raph managed a cocky grin, "It'll take more than your fancy toothpicks to put me out of action." Standing up and sobering a little, he added, "Listen, Leo, if you really think attacking the Shredder right now is the best thing for our family, then I'm with you all the way. But if you're just doing this because of some self-blame leader junk, I swear I'll tackle you until your brain starts working again. Got it? No more of this 'with me or against me' stuff."

Adrenaline and anger spent, Leo sank to the ground. "Why did he have to go alone? I keep picturing him there, scared, hurt. I'm his older brother, Raph. I should have been there." See? That was exactly the self-blame leader junk he was talking about.

"News flash, Leo, so am I. And I'm just as much to blame for this as you are. But we're gonna fix this. We did it with you and we'll do it again."

Looking up to meet his brother's gaze, Leo asked, "How are you so calm?"

Raph shrugged as he held out a hand to help his brother up. "Who knows? Maybe seeing you lose your cool helps me keep mine? I'm not sure this family could handle the two of us losing our heads at the same time." Taking the hand that was offered to him, Leo huffed out a laugh. "The Shredder's shiny butt isn't going, anywhere, Leo. So cut it out with the fearless leader shtick for a while because the guy Mike and Donnie really need right now is their brother, not their leader." Especially not the crazy 'let's all get killed' version.

There was a slow, tentative nod. It wasn't a 'Thanks for talking some sense into me, Raph, I was acting like more of a moron than usual' but it would have to do. Leo was staring at him a little dully, like he was rebooting or something, and Raph didn't want to accidentally set him off again by teasing him too much. Still, it probably wouldn't hurt if he helped the process along. "So, Leo," he said, placing his hands behind his head like this was just another casual conversation, "how are we going to keep Mikey from driving himself and _us_ insane while he stays cooped up here for a month? Any ideas?" Leo snapped back into focus, staring at his brother incredulously. "Well?"

Raph swore he could almost hear the gears turning. It really was a good thing that he'd been born into a family of problem solvers. When they were kids, the fastest way to put Donnie in a good mood was to throw a Sudoku at him.

"We could take him topside, sometimes?"

A nod. "Good. That's a start."

"Uh, we could ask April or Casey to come over whenever we go out on patrol?"

"Sounds like a plan, brother," Raph said, clapping Leo on the shoulder. Well, it was the start of one. It had some kinks but they'd work them out later. And, really, April and Casey were practically coming over every day, anyways. "Feeling better now?"

Leo shot him a grateful smile. "Yeah, actually. Thanks, Raph."

Grinning, Raph replied as they walked out, "Now all you have to do is help me apologize to Mikey and we'll be even."

"Haha, no. The thing with Mikey is your mess. You're just going to have to clean it up yourself."

Hearing that, he barked a laugh, "Man, I just talked you out the worst decision of your life. You owe me. Also, you don't actually have a choice… Just saying."

Leo groaned. Then a thought occurred to him as they passed the doors that stopped him in his tracks. "Hey, Raph... you don't think sensei heard us fighting, do you?"

"What? Nah. He's with Mikey. Plus, we're ninja. How loud could we be?"


	14. Chapter 14

_Stupid katas. Stupid Saki, thinking he was better than him. Well, he’d show him. Yoshi took another step under the swaying branches of the cherry blossom tree as he worked on the kata his father had assigned to him and his brother for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. Block. Attack. Defend. He was fourteen and the heir of his dojo, yet the movements and steps always seemed to come much more naturally to his adopted brother. And he was always so smug about it. So, this time, Yoshi was going to practice until he got it. Block. Attack. Defe-_

_He overbalanced on the fifth step, the same step as last time, landing on his rear and hitting a root, then yelping as his tail bone zinged at the impact. Growling with frustration, he let his head fall back, taking a few calming breathes before he stood up to start again, only for muffled laughter to drift towards his ears, coming from the branch above him. He leapt to his feet, ready to defend himself from… a little girl in a pink kimono?_

_Mouth gaping, he stared at her as her warm brown eyes looked down at him with mischief._

_“You’re never going to get the kata right if you keep focusing like that,” she said, perfectly at home crouching on the tree branch._

_Yoshi closed his mouth and coughed. He didn’t need to hear how to do a kata from a girl. “Are you, um, stuck up there, little girl?”_

_Well, that was the wrong thing to say. The girl furrowed her brow with anger, then she leapt from the branch, pink kimono catching the wind as she fell. “I’m thirteen. No more a child than you are a babbling toddler.” A strong gust of wind blew most of her dark hair over her eyes and mouth, and she sputtered, impatient fingers trying to fling it away and only getting themselves tangled._

_Shocked, Yoshi laughed as he moved closer to this strange girl in his backyard. “Here, let me help you with that.” As gently as he could manage, he untangled the knots and tucked the hair behind her ears. She smiled gratefully at him, causing butterfly wings to flutter in his stomach, and then she danced away. Just as he moved to follow, she slipped into a familiar form, her hands and feet moving through the steps of the kata he’d just been practicing. For some reason, Yoshi’s cheeks flushed at the thought of her watching him without him noticing._

_It wasn’t until she successfully completed the fifth step, a triumphant smile, flitting about her lips, that he exclaimed, “How did you do that?”_

_“You’re stressing out too much.” She said as she restarted the kata. “You’re so focused on the movements that you’re blocking out the world around you. Move with nature, with the wind, with sound the water makes as it bubbles over stone. The outside world isn’t something you block out when you do a kata, it’s something you let flow through you.” She twirled, abandoning the kata for her own movements. “Here,” she said, motioning for him to come closer, “I’ll teach you.”_

_Suddenly cautious, Yoshi didn’t move. “I’ve heard tales- stories of cherry blossom trees that turn into youkai and appear as girls so beautiful they drive men insane.” Youkai were something his father had warned him about, but he’d never really believed in them until that moment. Choosing his words carefully so as not to offend her, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be-”_

_She cut him off with a wave of her hand and a laugh, “That’s very flattering to hear, but I’m completely human. My name is Tang Shen,” she held out a hand and he dazedly shook it, murmuring his own name in turn, “I’m here because my father forbade me from coming to meet you.”_

_“Oh.” Yoshi replied, feeling foolish and a little let down. Then his eyes widened. The Tang name belonged to the rival dojo across the street. “Wait... you came here to meet me, the next heir of the Hamato dojo, because your father specifically forbade you from seeing me?” It had never occurred to him to disobey his own father. All his life he’d been taught that disobedience could lead to death, as it often did for ninjas in a clan. Yet, this girl went out of her way to do so._

_A playful smirk twisting her lips, Tang Shen replied, “Well, of course I did. Parents don’t know everything, you know.”_

 

 _Agreed_ , Master Splinter thought ruefully as another _thud_ reverberated through the lair, coming from the dojo where his sons were no doubt talking out their issues in a civilized manner, as he had instructed them to do time and time again.

Turning back to his youngest, he said, “It would seem that your brothers are as capable of great wisdom as they are of great stupidity.” The words surprised a short burst of laughter from his youngest, easing the tension from his eyes, as Splinter had hoped they would. The wary anxiety he’d seen lining his son’s face had not suited him. 

Then Mikey ducked his head, his gaze fixated on his hands as they wrung the sheets in his lap, and Master Splinter felt the same fear strike him. The fear that Oroku Saki had taken yet another precious smile from his life. There was a chair beside the bed; Splinter pulled it close to his son, and then slowly pulled a faded piece of fabric out from behind his back.

Mikey’s eyes flew to it, practically glowing. “Master Splinter, is that,” he swallowed, “my mask?” Trembling, he took it in his hands, handling it as though it were more precious than gold, and to him, it was. 

“Donatello put your mask in the wash. I thought you might like to wear it.” Most of the blood was gone. The only trace left was the slightly rusty hue the orange mask had taken, and that too would fade in time. 

Looking thoughtful, Mikey let his hands fall. “But I’m not going to need this mask, am I? The guys are going to patrol without me.”

“Michelangelo,” Master Splinter replied with a touch of reproof in his tone, “do you truly believe your brothers no longer want you with them?”

“That’s not it, sensei!” Mikey cried, “What if things go badly? Who’s going help them? And what if they don’t? What if everything goes perfect because I’m not there? They’ll realize that they don’t need me.” There were tears in his eyes again, but he held them back, refusing to close his eyes against the sting because that would make him feel better and he didn’t want to feel better. And, yet, at the same time, he desperately wanted to be comforted.

After Master Splinter heard his second youngest claim that Michelangelo made no difference, he’d had a feeling this would be an issue. It was why he’d cut their conversation short, after all. Anyone would try to stop an avalanche if they could. In a way, Raphael was also a force of nature, not always destructive, rarely ill intentioned, yet so difficult to stop once he was on a roll. Drained by the events of the last twenty-four hours, Splinter momentarily sagged in his chair, then straightened. He reached deep inside himself for the guidance he always sought during these trying times, and found her, waiting as she always did beneath the cherry blossom tree.

“Michelangelo,” his son turned to focus on the sound of his voice, drawn to the renewed strength that radiated from his father, “I met the other half of my heart when I was still a boy. After meeting her, after loving her, I didn’t think I could live without her.” He paused, not for breath but for an idea, something to help his son understand. “Michelangelo, have you ever woken up one morning certain that the rest of your day was going to be perfect?”

He had. Recently, however, the day seemed to go out of its way to prove him wrong. Still, Mikey nodded. Master Splinter carefully covered one of his bandaged hands with his own. It was large enough to encompass both his son’s hand and the mask he clutched so tightly in his palm. “That was how I felt after I met Tang Shen. I was certain our future was going to be perfect.” The hand resting under Master Splinter’s paw rolled over so he could squeeze his father’s hand. There was only one ending to a story about Tang Shen and it was never a happy one. “When I lost her, I believed I’d lost everything. Then I found you and your brothers, your love let me live again. However, do you believe, my son, that I no longer need her in my life?” Mikey shook his head. “Do you believe that, if given the chance, I would not see her again?” A tear slipped down Mikey’s cheek as he slowly shook his head again. Master Splinter brushed it away, a gentle smile on his face. “If I had never known her, I might not need her as I do, but I met her, I loved her, just as your brothers love you.” There was a growing realization in his son, he could feel it. He just had to be sure. “Your brothers may be able to continue functioning as a team without you, Michelangelo, but they will _never_ stop needing you.”

He carefully wrapped his arms around his youngest son, letting the warmth of his body spread through him as Michelangelo leaned into him, resting his head against his father’s shoulder as though he were a young child again, just waking from a nightmare. Back then, Splinter had marveled at how perfectly they’d fit in his arms, and he did so even now. 

“If something should happen to your brothers,” Master Splinter continued, “then we will save them, together. And if something should happen to me, if for some reason I cannot be by your side, then rely on your friends, Michelangelo.” Chuckling lowly, he added, “Very few in this life can truthfully call a mutated alligator their friend.” He winked at his sniffling child, earning himself a shy smile. “It’d be a shame not to take advantage of it.” Michelangelo pressed closer to him, hiccupping softly. “There is no shame in asking for help from those who are willing to provide it.” Master Splinter rested his head on his son’s. “But that was not all you wanted to talk about, was it, my son?” Still not trusting himself to speak, Mikey shook his head again. Splinter nodded. “Alright, my son, tell me, what is it that troubles you? You have my undivided attention.” _Crash._ “Undivided,” Splinter reiterated, an exasperated flick of his ears the only acknowledgment he gave the increasingly worrying noises that emanated from the dojo. 

Almost regretfully, Mikey broke away from him, rubbing his eyes furiously as he replied, “When the Shredder asked me where my brothers were, I pretended not to know, because I knew he would brag about it and maybe let something slip, you know? But I didn’t tell you anything different. I saw your face, sensei, I knew you believed me, but I didn’t know how to tell you they were okay without telling the Shredder. And then I let you think I was dead. It was,” there was a cough, then a gasp as he fought for breath and Splinter crouched, his palm gently cradling his son’s head until his breathing evened out. Mikey looked at his eyes, and though Splinter had hoped his son would not think, even for a moment, that he could possibly ever reject him, this seemed to be exactly what his youngest son feared, “the Shredder said I was cruel, sensei. He said he was impressed. That means I did something wrong, right?”

After a heavy sigh, Splinter shook his head, “The Shredder has always seen the world as he wishes it to be, it is both his greatest strength and his greatest flaw. You did nothing wrong, my son.” He couldn’t quite hide the hurt in his expression as he pressed his forehead against his son’s and asked, “Did you honestly think I would be angry with you? After you saved me? After you saved your brothers?”

“I didn’t know,” Mikey choked, the water in his sky-colored eyes raining down, “I thought… Why aren’t you, sensei?”

“How could I be? When I am just so happy that you are alive?”

Voice breaking, Mikey answered, “If I had moved sooner, if I hadn’t asked for help, if I had just done everything by myself from the very beginning, then-”

“Then you truly would be dead, my son. And if, as you say, you are at fault for someone’s death, then I know you did everything you could to save them.”

Green fingers entwined themselves in his yukata; it pained Splinter’s heart to feel them shake against his chest. “That’s the thing, sensei. I heard Shredder order Tiger Claw to go after the Foot nin who helped me, but I knew that if I moved early, I’d lose the only chance I had at getting the mutagen.” And he’d hoped they’d get away, that there wouldn’t have to be a choice between two strangers and his family, because that wasn’t a choice at all. And even knowing that made his stomach turn, his mouth taste sour. He was a ninja, and that was kind of like a superhero, right? So didn’t that mean he should be able to save everyone? 

Except he hadn’t saved everyone. He didn’t. He couldn’t. If he’d tried, he might have lost his life, his family, and Miles would still be dead, but he didn’t even try. “When they agreed to help me, even if it was for their own reasons, I sort of felt responsible for them. But I thought they didn’t need my protection. I thought they could handle it.” A memory played back in his head, a memory of a purple and black mask dripping red all over the floor. “I abandoned them, sensei. I left them to die.”

He waited, his body quivering despite the heat of his father’s arms, for his father to agree with him, to look at him with cold eyes because _he could have saved them._

To his surprise, his father only held him closer. By this point, Mikey was too tired to cry. He laid his head on his father’s chest, listening to the _thump thump_ of his heartbeat and sagged against him, too relieved that he wasn’t being pushed away - that he wasn’t ever going to be pushed away - to even look up as Splinter found that same well of strength within himself and forged on, saying the words it had taken him over a decade to believe. “The greatest burden a man can carry is the desire to protect all that he loves and the knowledge that there are times when he cannot. Sometimes, a loved one is lost and there is nothing we could have done to save them. When that happens, you must learn from your mistakes and grow stronger, so that the next time someone you love is in danger, you do not lose them.” A minute passed where neither moved, each content to simply be in the other’s presence, then Mikey suppressed a small yawn, and Splinter hoped Donatello would forgive him, because his youngest deserved a rest. “Michelangelo?”

As they separated, Mikey straightened his back as much as he could,“ _Hai_ , sensei?”

“Relax, my son. I know how much you admire Leonardo, and I believe that, like him, you also have the makings of a great leader.” Mikey swelled. “However,” and deflated, “you must promise me something, Michelangelo.” Splinter’s tone was stern now, though his arms never stopped being gentle. “Promise me you’ll never risk your life for mine again.” Not even a second passed before Mikey realized he couldn’t keep that promise. “There are two things I fear more than anything in this world. The first is losing my sons,” this was met by a slight wince, “and the second is learning they do not believe I love them.” He held up a hand the moment he saw Mikey open his mouth to protest. “I know now why you said what you did, and I have never doubted your love.” His expression softened as he finished, “My only concern is that you have doubted mine. Because if you have,” and here he took a moment to gather himself, “then I have failed you as a father.”

“Never,” Mikey whispered. “I've never doubted you, Father.”

And a little piece of the ice that had lodged itself in Splinter’s heart the second he saw the Shredder’s blades pierce his son melted away.

 

No sooner had he lain his son down to bed, Splinter watched him sink into sleep as though a switch had been flipped, then he turned to the door and called, “Do you plan to sulk out there for the rest of the day, Donatello? Or would you like to come inside?”

Feeling sheepish, Donnie crept inside, coming face-to-face with a very amused sensei. He coughed a little nervously and replied, “Um, technically, you only asked us to leave the room, sensei.”

“So I did.” Splinter conceded, suppressing the smile that tugged at his lips. “Well, Doctor Donatello,” his son flushed, “I’ll leave you to your patient.” Lingering at the doorway, Splinter said, almost as an afterthought, “Ah, Donatello, you wouldn’t have happened to hear any strange noises coming from the dojo, would you?”

“Um, no, sensei. But then…” Guilt written all over his face despite his valiant attempt to appear innocent, Donnie wiggled his hands by his head to indicate his complete lack of outer ears. As though that had ever made a difference.

 _Ah, my dear one,_ Splinter thought as he left the room, catching sight of his two oldest sons quickly trying to hide the ice and bandages in their hands on his way out, _you must be so proud of our children. Without ever meeting you, they've taken your lessons to heart._

 

Mikey woke up to a weight on his chest. Breath hitching, he nearly panicked, then the weight shifted and he realized the top of Donatello’s head was resting on his plastron. 

“Mikey?” Donatello lifted his head, revealing eyes puffy and pink from crying. 

“Donnie?” responded Mikey, still in shock over seeing his older brother in tears, “Are you okay?”

Wiping his eyes, Donnie chuckled a little. “Of course not. I was just thinking about how if anything happened to you, I’d be the youngest brother.” A tight grin on his face, he added, “That’d be awful.” Mikey laughed, shifting so he could pat his brother on the head. “Also,” Donnie said almost thoughtfully, “I’d be losing my best friend.” Mikey’s hand hovered in the air as – and he could barely believe it – Donnie lifted his hand for a fist bump. “B-team?”

“A- team, bro.” It hurt to laugh, but the watery smile on his brother’s face as they bumped fists was so totally worth it.

Neither of them realized they weren’t alone until they heard the turtle standing awkwardly by the throat the door clear his throat. “Uh, hi,” Raph said, sporting a new black eye, and if looks could kill then the glower Donnie fixed him with would have reduced him to a turtle-shaped char mark on the wall. 

“If you’re here to upset to my patient again, Raph, then I suggest you step right back out that door.”

“Actually, Donnie,” replied a voice from outside the room before Raph could point out that Donatello was not, in fact, a real doctor, “he’s not allowed to leave until he apologizes.”

“ _Leo_ ,” Raph hissed, “that was supposed to be a secret.”

“I’m not hearing any apologizing, Raphie,” his older brother sing-songed.

Raph kicked the door. “Open that door right now, Leo, and I’ll show you an apology.”

“No, you won’t.” 

Mikey blinked, “Oh, so this is supposed to be an apology? You don’t have to do that. Sensei, already explained everything to me.” Grinning cheekily, he added, “You guys need me.”

“The thing is, Mike,” Raph replied, “you shouldn’t have needed sensei to tell you that. I’m s-sorry if I made you feel like we don’t need you.” After receiving a _don’t make me regret this_ nod from Donnie, Raph picked up the orange mask in his little brother’s lap and tied it around his head. “You’ll always have a place on the team, bro.” Then he wrapped his arms around his little brother, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, the one that always seemed to pop up whenever he looked at his younger brother’s injuries and realized just how close they’d come to losing him. 

“Aw,” Leo poked his head in, “isn’t that cute?” Turning to his genius younger brother, he grinned and said, “Don, you got a camera on you?”

Chaos ensued as Donnie pulled a camera from his belt, Raph spewed threats while not making any attempt to free himself from his little brother’s embrace, and Mikey snickered as Leo snuck into the picture. 

Standing outside, his head resting against the door as the sounds of protest and laughter grew louder, Master Splinter smiled. His sons were going to be just fine.


	15. Chapter 15

It was three days before Mikey’s brothers could be convinced to leave the lair. Unfortunately, they needed a new television to replace the one with the gaping hole in it, a new computer for Donnie, and a new couch. As luck would have it, though, Casey had gone searching almost immediately after Master Splinter sent him and April home and managed to find a working television at the local junkyard. It was an old model, maybe a little beaten up, but it worked. And that was all that really mattered to the turtles. Chances were good they’d be replacing it soon, anyway. For her part, April garbage-picked a forest green couch. Taking a break from Mikey watch, Donnie helped carry what was left of their old couch up to the curb so the trucks would pick it up. He also tried lowering his little brother’s morphine dosage on the third day. Then Mikey started spewing every bad word Casey had taught him under his breath and Donnie realized that he might have lowered it a little too much. Raph, overhearing the familiar curse words, decided it was time to have a talk with his best human friend. That was right around the time Casey decided to go out for a run. Coincidentally, Raph felt a sudden urge to go on a run. 

“Hey, April, did ya see which direction Casey ran in? I’m going on a hunt.”

“Um, you mean “run,” right?”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

For the most part, things were peaceful again. Except Leo noticed Donnie was looking more and more worn down with each passing hour. When he wasn’t sitting with Mikey in his room or helping to clean the lair, he was locked in his own room, the sounds of glass clinking and pencils scratching on paper lasting the entire night. That was probably why when Leo woke up in bed, gasping from the usual nightmare, he went to his room first. However much Leo may have disapproved of his little brother pulling another all-nighter, he couldn’t deny the sense of relief that bloomed in his chest at seeing him awake. And alive.

Donnie didn’t notice him leaning in the doorway right away, too engrossed in the pale liquid bubbling in his beaker to notice if the sky was falling. Skin, dark and puffy, drooped under his bloodshot eyes as he muttered something about increased atom density. 

“Well, Don, if you’re running for mayor of the undead, you have my vote.” Startled by the sound of his brother’s voice, Donnie jumped nearly a foot out of his chair. His hand jerked, spilling some of the boiling liquid across the ruin of his once prized laptop. “Woah.”

Saying Donnie wasn’t usually jumpy probably wouldn’t be right, but he wasn’t usually that jumpy.

Turning around to glare at him, Donnie said, “Ha ha. Very funny, Leo. I’ll have you know that I’ve been working on a synthetic shell for Mikey. Something so strong we could throw him off a plane shell-first and it’d barely have a dent in it.” Leo looked at the bubbling liquid curiously, wondering just what his genius brother had done to make it. And whether or not it was safe.

Keeping his tone neutral, Leo asked, “Would Mikey survive that?”

Donnie deflated a little. “Well… no. But his shell would be fine.” Oh, good. That took care of everything, didn’t it? Sure, their little brother would be dead, but at least they would have his perfectly intact shell to remember him by.

“Donnie?” Leo put a hand on his shoulder, resulting in Donatello looking at the hand as though he were wondering what the hand was doing touching him. “There is something wrong with that plan. The first part being we can’t throw him off a plane.”

But Donnie wasn’t in the mood for words of wisdom. He rolled his eyes so hard he imagined he could see his brain if it wasn’t so dark in his head. “Is there anything else wrong with my brilliant hypothetical plan that you want to mention? You know, the plan I only mentioned for rhetoric’s sake and actually had no intention of carrying out?”  
Boy, someone was in a snippy mood. 

“I have a feeling,” Leo replied as he pulled his hand away, “ that I’m not going to like any of it, actually.” How could they put some new material they’d never tested before on Mikey? What if it didn’t work? What if it made things worse? What if there were side effects?

Anger flashed in Donnie’s eyes, his hands twitching like he just wanted to grab the first thing he could reach and throw it in Leo’s face. Instead, he snapped, “Well, then what do you want me to do, Leo? Mikey fell down an elevator shaft. Did he tell you that? That’s how he cracked his shell.” Of course he’d told him that. “Did he tell you why he fell?” Leo felt his eyes narrow because Mikey had been a little vague with the details, but Donnie had been spending the most time with him lately, so it made sense that Mikey would tell him more. Rationally, it made perfect sense. Irrationally, it still hurt a little to realize his little brother had kept something from him. “Mikey was poisoned, Leo. I analyzed a blood sample of his and found traces of chlorine. I thought the coughing was just due to the infection in his foot, but then I asked him about it and he said that he tried not to inhale any of the green gas when he was crawling through the vent but he was dizzy and he couldn’t see.” He waited, breathing hard, for Leo to say something. And Leo waited for something to come to him; something he could say that would take the edge off of finding out his baby brother had been poisoned. It might have been easier to think if the impulse to rip something apart wasn’t nudging at his mind, right along with the fear from the remaining traces of his dream. Nothing was worse than wanting to protect his brothers and not knowing how. 

When he saw that Leo wasn’t going to respond, Donnie threw up his hands with a snort. “Don’t you get it? That’s why he fell. It wasn’t because he was clumsy or distracted or woozy – well, that might have had something to do it – but, mostly, it was because he couldn’t see. And he couldn’t see because the Shredder tried to poison him.”  
Alright. Like he needed another reason to hate the Shredder. 

“What are you trying to get at, Donnie?” Last time he saw Mikey, the cough was dying down, the fever was broken, the infection was nearly non-existent, and his voice sounded a million times better. If it weren’t for the wound in his plastron sending pain shooting through his muscles every time he moved, he’d probably already be walking around. In a few more days, he probably would be. 

Putting a hand on his forehead, Don took a breath. When he started speaking again, he stopped sounding like he was talking about some complex puzzle he’d pieced together and finally sounding like he was talking about their little brother. “I’m saying I’m a genius, Leo. And I thought that was enough. But what kind of genius am I if I can’t even protect my brothers? Even if I wasn’t there, I should have invented something to protect him from the poison, something to protect his shell in case he fell from a building. I should have done more than let myself get ambushed and then crawl around in a fish bowl and eat cucumbers while Mikey was out there DYING!” He clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide and horrified. They waited, still, silent, for any sign that he’d woken up Raph or Mike.

When no sound reached their ears, Leo said softly, “We all wish we were there, Don. Believe me.” And, to be honest, the entire conversation was starting to give him a serious case of Déjà vu. “But we can’t change the past. And beating ourselves up about it will only make things worse.” As the world' resident expert on beating himself up, he would know. Shrugging, the slightest smile tugging at his lips, Leo added, “And Mikey’s stronger than he looks. He’ll get through this.” There was the slightest hesitation, because he really didn’t know whether comparing himself to Michelangelo was a good idea, then he rushed ahead. “I mean, I did, right?”

And, wow, he did not know Donnie’s face could turn that shade of purple. 

“MI-” Catching himself, Donatello lowered his voice to an acidic hiss. “Mikey isn’t you, Leo. He isn’t-"

“What?” Leo demanded, his expression gone hard and cold. “He’s not invincible?” Then he saw the instant regret on his little brother’s face and softened a little. “I’m not, either, Don.” 

A broken leg.

A month of walking with a crutch. 

Leo knew what it was like to feel invincible. And he knew how much it hurt when the world decided to show you just how mistaken that feeling was. After their vision quest, Donnie had asked him how he'd managed to fight off the pain in his leg when it wasn’t mental. And he’d been too embarrassed then to admit it, but he was pretty sure now that the pain _was_ mental. His leg had already healed. He’d just wanted an excuse not to get hurt again. 

Leo wasn’t fearless. He wasn’t invincible. He was just doing the best he could. Sometimes, that was enough. The rest of the time, it wasn’t.

It was the rest of the time that kept waking him up in the middle of night.

Donnie buried his face in his hands, so his voice came out muffled and tired, “ I know you’re not, Leo.” There was a long pause. And the oldest Hamato brother waited, unmoving as a mountain, because something was bothering his little brother and, whatever it was, he had a feeling that if he spoke too soon or moved too quickly, Don would change his mind and refuse to tell him. So, he waited. And, finally, Donnie said, “He dropped a nunchuck today.” When Leo lifted an eye ridge to show that he didn’t understand, Don clarified, “I unwrapped his arm and asked him to hold one of his nunchucks for me, and it slid right through his fingers.”

If Donatello hadn’t sounded as upset as he did, Leo would have just shrugged this off as Mikey being Mikey. After all, dropping a weapon wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t something they did often but sometimes butterfingers could get the best of even the most experienced ninjas. “What does it mean, Donnie?”

He sighed. “It means the Shredder’s blades hit his radial nerve. It sends signals from the brain to his hand, and if it’s damaged, it can lead to,” he ticked the symptoms off on his fingers, “decreased grip, lowered arm strength, delayed reaction time.”

Frowning, Leo replied, “But it’ll heal, right?”

“It never should’ve happened!” Donnie snapped. “But, yeah, it’ll heal. And then you can go right back to using him as _bait!_ ”

Now, that was crossing a line. Being upset and lashing out because Mikey was hurt was one thing, but he wasn’t going to lie down and take it when his leadership was being questioned. “I haven’t heard you-“

“But I’ve heard you.” Don and Leo whipped around to see Raph standing in the hall, looking red-eyed and irritated. “You’re keeping me and Mikey awake so if you could both just _shut up,_ I’d really appreciate it.”

“Um-”

“And if ya don’t, I’m gonna shove both your thick skulls through the wall. Got it?” Twin looks of complete disbelief followed him as he stalked back to his room, obviously muttering insults under his breath.

Breaking the silence in the room, Leo chuckled, “He’s been doing that, lately. It’s weird, right? If he doesn’t cut it out soon, I’m going to be out of the,” he looked up to see his younger brother still blue with shock, “job.”

He wrapped an arm around Don’s shoulders, furrowing his brow as he trained his gaze on the mysterious liquid in the beaker and said, “Tell me more about the synthetic shell you’re making for Mikey.”

Uncertain about the change in topic, Don replied, “I thought you said it was a bad idea.”

“Well, I still think we should test it on plaster or something first, but the idea itself isn’t a bad one. And Mike’s gonna be thrilled when he hears you’re making him a stronger shell.” For the first time in three days, Don relaxed. 

There was a small smile on his face. “I thought so, too.” A sound like a bear snoring issued from his stomach and his cheeks lit up.

Leo laughed. “Sounds like you’re hungry, bro. I’ll go get us some pizza.”

“It’s two in the morning!” Don protested.

Grinning widely, Leo left the room, calling gleefully over his shoulder in a hushed voice so only Donnie would hear, “ Then I’ll do the responsible, leader thing and go get us some ice cream.” 

And that gave Don an idea.

 

Another three weeks passed and then Don was finally ready to put his brilliant plan into action. Casey and April were already sitting at the dinner table with Leo and Master Splinter, so now they just had to wait for-

“Mike, would ya stop hopping around like jackrabbit! You’re gonna tear open your stiches.”

Right on schedule.

Sticking his tongue out, Mikey hopped away from his brother and retorted,“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Raph.” Then his foot rolled, triggering a reflex that jerked his abdominal muscles, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he sagged against the wall, his foot, mostly healed by now, placed firmly on the ground and one hand clutched around his stomach. “On second thought, that’s probably enough hopping for one day.” Rolling his eyes, Raph slung one of Mikey’s arms around his neck and helped him to the dinner table. 

As they approached, Don shot a scowl at Mikey, just to let him know that he didn’t appreciate it when his little brother goofed around and set his healing process back a few days. They’d been building his arm strength back up with conventional rehabilitation exercises like squeezing tennis balls and unconventional ones like katas, but puncture wounds that passed straight through the torso took longer to heal than a cut on the foot or even a bad puncture wound in muscle. They couldn’t start building the strength in his abdominal muscles back up until Donatello was sure that something as simple as a crunch wouldn’t tear the stitches. In one (or two) more weeks, he’d start removing some of them, but that was only if Mikey didn’t injure himself any further by pushing his limits. 

The longer Mikey had to stay at home, the longer Don would be stuck on a team with just Leo and Raph. And without Mikey around to ease the tension, those two were about as fun to hang around as rattlesnakes. 

Noticing the scowl aimed in his direction, Mikey offered Don an apologetic smile as he gingerly lowered himself into his chair. 

“Hey, Mikey,” Casey leaned forward in his seat, “what did I tell you about bad words?”

After an exasperated sigh that suggested this was not the first or second or even seventh time he'd been asked this question, Mikey replied, “Don’t say them unless I know what they mean.”

“And?”

“Not unless I’m alone.”

“Or?” Master Splinter frowned disapprovingly at the lessons Casey Jones was teaching his son.

“Or I’m not with someone who will chase you through the sewers.”

Raph huffed. “I told you I was on a run.”

“You threatened to slam me across the head with Mikey’s skateboard!” 

“Big deal.” Raph scoffed. “I always threaten people when I go on runs.” Exchanging nervous glances, Mike and Don silently acknowledged the truth of the statement. They usually regarded the threats with the same sense of irritated resignation most humans reserved for tone-deaf birds that like to start singing at five in the morning. They were both background noise to a new day and the only thing that could stop either was a sturdy pair of earplugs. 

Donnie clapped his hands. “Well, now that everyone’s finally here, I’d like you all to try the ice cream I made.” After pulling away from the table before anyone protest, and smiling briefly at sound of cheers that followed him, he ran to the freezer, moved Ice Cream Kitty to the left so he could pull out the regular strawberry ice cream he’d created in his lab, then moved Ice Cream Kitty to the right so he could pull out the ice cream with the special recipe he’d created specifically for Casey. 

“Well?” Donnie asked, desperately trying not to look at Casey as he inhaled his first five bites. “How is it?” 

“It’s good, Don.” There was a yelp and Leo looked across the table to see Casey had fallen out of his seat. Then he turned back to Donnie to ask him to check on him since he was already standing, except Don was already leaping to his side. And though reaction time wasn’t something he was necessarily poor at, something about the grin on his face made Leo suspect he’d been expecting this. 

If Leo looked at the ground to see that his genius brother had turned Casey into a newt, he was going to be very cross. It had been a long three weeks and that was really not something he wanted to deal with right now.

So when Donnie looked down at the ground and crowed with triumph, “I did it!” Leo’s stomach sank. Then Casey stood up. And his skin from head-to-toe was the exact same shade of sickening pink as cotton candy and bubblegum. If someone had dropped the candy and bubblegum in irradiated waste and then set it on fire.

Casey turned his hands over, looking dumbstruck. “I’m pink.” 

Cackling, Donnie replied, “That’s what you get for treating me like a pet, Casey Jones!” When Casey didn’t react beyond checking out his elbow, Donnie’s mirth faded. “Hey, you’re not actually upset, are you?”

“This… this…”

“Casey?” Donnie cringed under the weight of April’s withering glare.

Then Casey surprised both of them. “This is amazing!” 

Since he’d been bracing himself for a very different reaction, the best Donnie could muster on short notice was, “Huh?” To be fair, the rest of his family had pretty much the exact same thought running through their minds.

“I have pink skin, Donnie.” Jumping excitedly, he added, “You know who else had pink skin?” Uh, Kraang? “Nobody! Ah, man, I can’t wait to show my sister.” And with that, he rushed out of the lair, with Donnie calling sulkily after him, “You’re really not supposed to be happy about this. Come back here and be embarrassed.” 

Raph walked over and slung a comforting arm around him. “Ah, cheer up, Don. You can try and find Casey’s sense of shame again next time. But, you know,” the air suddenly felt a little colder, “I seem to remember something embarrassing happening to me when we were regular turtles and you laughing your shell off at it.” Most of the memories they’d kept of their time without mutagen had been rank with worry and desperation, so Don flitted through them quickly, finding the one of Raph with a cotton ball tied to his head in the space of a second. When Raph saw the way his eyes widened at the memory, he grinned like a shark. “Now seems like a good time for some payback.” 

“My sons,” Master Splinter interrupted, sounding stern, just as Raph was about to lunge at Donnie’s head. But if Donnie was expecting help, he wasn’t getting any. With a sigh, Splinter simply said, “try not to break anything.”

 

Raph made Donnie walk around with a pillow tied to his head for four hours. Since his wounds still hurt if he laughed too much, Mikey resigned himself after his first giggle fit to simply smiling whenever he saw his pillow-clad brother, something that relieved and angered Donatello. As nice as it was to have one less brother laughing at his expense, Mikey should have been able to laugh if he wanted to. A week ago, he’d worked out the kinks in his synthetic shell and applied it to the cracks in Mikey’s carapace. And, just as he’d designed it to, it’d blended in almost seamlessly with the rest of his shell. The only difference was the hardened synthetic shell came out slightly lighter, like a scar. 

It was a step. But it still wasn’t enough. Unfortunately, he’d promised Leo that he’d give sleeping at night a shot and not try anything mad-scientist-y unless he bounced it off of him first. And something told him Leo wouldn’t be as willing to let him experiment with tissue regeneration as he had been to let him work on a harder shell. 

So, when Donnie turned in his bed, feeling restless, he decided to do something he hadn’t done since he took Mikey off the IV and slipped into his room, the pillow he’d had tied to his head now tucked under his arm. 

His little brother was awake when he entered. “Don,” he whispered, blinking owlishly in the dark, “what are you doing here?”

“Scoot over, Mikey. There’s enough room in that bed for two.” Smiling, Mikey edged closer to the wall so Don could slip under the sheets. Almost immediately after, he felt his breathing even, his heart rate slow to a more comfortable pace. He felt his brother shift slightly next to him, then still, so with a quiet grunt of frustration, he reached over for his little brother’s hand and squeezed. 

They were together.

They were safe.

For the moment, nothing else mattered.

And if they woke up that morning to see two more bodies sleeping on the floor, one lying down in front of the door like he could keep the whole world out and the other with an arm draped protectively over the bed, then that was their little secret.


End file.
